


Out of the Ashes

by gallifreyslostson



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 115,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyslostson/pseuds/gallifreyslostson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler is used to being alone, having learned the hard way that, eventually, everyone disappears.  After losing the one person she dared to believe wouldn’t leave her, she stops trying to believe that anything will last.  She’s determined that no one will hurt her or her son again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Rose Tyler was someone that got left behind.  It was just a fact of her existence.  They didn’t always want or mean to (in the case of her parents, her father dying when she was six months old, her mother when she was sixteen).  Sometimes she didn’t even factor into their decision (such as the boyfriends her mother had when she was still alive, the ones that Rose had grown close to and then disappeared on her).  Still other times it was a sort of casual drift toward the inevitable (like the myriad of friends and acquaintances that moved or went off to university and found new, better friends).  There were, of course, the occasions when it was deliberate, and hurtful, like Jimmy Stone, but it all came down to the same thing…Rose Tyler, on her own.  In her darker moments, she believed what he had said, that she wasn’t worth anyone’s time in the long run.

Despite this, at nineteen, she was a cheerful, warm person.  She worked in a coffee shop to make ends meet, and drifted between dreams du jour…some days, she wanted to travel the globe…others, she wanted to be a painter, or a writer.  It was then that she met John Smith, a history professor at the local university.

Despite the fact that he was easily twice her age, the two fell into an effortless friendship when he started frequenting the coffee house.  It might have had something to do with the shared feelings of loneliness…he’d lost his parents at a young age to a house fire, and had spent much of his childhood shunted between relatives, making him self-reliant to a fault.  Most people found him gruff and terse, but Rose liked his no-nonsense attitude and his sarcastic sense of humor, and the way he treated everyone the same.  And, for his part, he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company when she’d taken to sitting with him during slow hours and breaks, listening as he rambled on about the myriad of subjects his intelligent and magpie mind had collected information on.

One night, a few weeks after they’d met, Rose was closing on her own.  It wasn’t unusual; she closed on her own two or three times a week, and while it wasn’t the safest neighborhood, it wasn’t the worst, and she’d been so far free of incident.  But on this particular evening, a couple of thugs were waiting for her in the alley behind the shop.  She only managed to scream once when a dark shadow loomed over them and threw them to the other side of the alley.  Then a large hand was in hers, and she was looking into a pair of familiar blue eyes as a gruff, northern voice whispered, “Run.”

After that, John started driving Rose home on her closing shifts.  More often than not, they’d get caught up in their conversation, and he’d leave his car parked in front of her flat for an hour as they talked about everything and nothing.  They even got into arguments more than once, both being stubborn in their opinions, and the night would end with her exiting his car in a huff, slamming the door behind her an instant before he pealed out of the car park, tires squealing. 

The first time it happened, she was still annoyed the next day, but worried that she’d lost something.  But then he’d shown up at the coffee shop and slid a box of chocolates over the counter towards her before sauntering over to his usual table, winking at her when he saw her staring at him.  She mumbled her own apology when she brought him his tea, but he merely nodded his acknowledgement…and it was over.  And that’s how it went the next three times their temper overpowered their sense…a box of chocolate, a murmured apology, and the fight was over, never having been worth more than that in the first place.

It was during one of the long car conversations that she’d admitted her love of Monet; she was stunned two days later when he pushed a ticket for an upcoming exhibit toward her as she refilled his tea.  He looked slightly uncomfortable when she looked at him questioningly, saying quickly that she didn’t have to come if she had other plans, but had smiled and let out a happy “Fantastic!” when she grinned and said she’d love to go.

They’d spent the day arm in arm, poring over the beautiful works of art and delighting in each other’s company.  As the sun set, they were still reluctant to part, stopping at Rose’s favorite chippy for some dinner before wandering through a park for hours, their hands linked as John pointed out various constellations in the night sky.  By the time he finally drove her home, she was exhausted, but completely content.  He’d kept hold of her hand while he’d driven, then, just before she got out of the car, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand and told her how glad he was that he’d met her.

It was after that outing that things started getting strange, though.  Because that was when Rose realized that the way she felt about John wasn’t strictly friendly…and that was when John suddenly seemed extremely busy.  He didn’t come by the shop as often, and while he still made sure he was available to give her lifts home at night, he rarely stayed to chat.  There were still times when she’d sit with him in the coffee shop, and things would seem almost normal, except for a slight electric tingling between them, but every time she worked up the courage to try to say something about it, he’d suddenly have a reason to dash off again.

Rose couldn’t help feeling like it was her fault.  Obviously, a forty year old man who’d admitted more than once that he wasn’t one for domestics would have no use for a lovesick nineteen year old hanging around.  He was obviously trying to give her the brush off nicely, and would eventually go the way of everyone else.  She was at a loss of how to stave off the coming rejection, but even when she tried to keep things light, he’d look at her with those penetrating blue eyes and she’d feel caught out like the kid he probably saw her as.  She couldn’t help it.

She was in love with John Smith.  And John Smith wanted nothing to do with it.

oOoOo

Rose smiled and waved at Shereen on the dance floor before knocking back the rest of her gin and soda, letting an ice cube fall into her mouth as she set the empty tumbler back on the bar top.  It had been almost a week since John had made an appearance, and the look on his face when he’d told her to take care of herself as she got out of his car had nearly crushed her right there.  She spent a couple of days in denial, almost thinking she saw his car in the darkness when she closed.  But the car was off, and if there was someone in it, they never made an appearance.  She spent the next few days in acute pain before her friend had dragged her to the pub, claiming that all she needed was a good night out and an easy shag.  While the latter had never appealed to Rose, it did feel good to be somewhere that didn’t make her think of the absent history professor.

“Can I buy you a drink?” an American voice asked, and she looked up to see a tall man giving her a charming, dimpled smile.  She glanced down at her empty glass, and he followed her gaze.  “Another one?”

“Will you expect me to go home with you?” she asked bluntly.

“Expect?” he asked.  “No.  Hope, probably, but not expect.  A lady deserves to have a drink free of stipulation.”

“In that case,” she said, chuckling as she waved at her glass.

The man signaled the bartender and placed a quick order, then held his hand out to her.  “Jack Harkness.”

“Rose Tyler,” she said, shaking his hand.

“So, tell me, Rose,” he said as the bartender brought their drinks.  “What’s someone as lovely as you doing alone at a bar on a night like this?”

“Do you realize that your pickup lines are from the forties?” she asked, sipping her drink.

“I do,” he said.  “They’re classics.  _You_ haven’t answered my question.”

“Because the person I want doesn’t want to be here with me,” she blurted out, then looked up at Jack sharply.  “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear about that.”

“That’s okay,” he said, smiling again and shrugging.  “Who’s the guy?  Or girl, as the case may be?”

“Really, it doesn’t matter,” Rose said, shaking her head.

“Humor me,” he said, sitting down properly and turning to her.

She hesitated, but he only raised his eyebrows encouragingly, and she sighed.  “It’s this…man I know.  He’s…well…he’s sort of…” she trailed off and sighed.  “Sort of wonderful.  But…I dunno.  Sometimes, I think there’s something there, when we talk, and sometimes the way he looks at me…but then it’s gone.  Now I haven’t seen him at all in a few days…”  She sighed again and took another long drink.  “Probably all my imagination anyway.”

“Why would you think that?” Jack asked.

“I’m too young for him,” she said with a shrug.  “He’s a history professor…he’s got students older than me.  He probably just thinks I’m a kid.  It’s just…”

“Just…” Jack urged, giving her an odd look.

“When I’m with him, I don’t feel like a kid,” she said.  “It doesn’t feel like a twenty year age gap.  It just feels like…like John and Rose,” she finished with a shrug, not sure how to explain herself.

“John and Rose,” Jack said slowly.  “Tell me, this wonderful professor of yours, his name wouldn’t happen to be John Smith, would it?”  Rose looked up at him sharply, and he laughed, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.  “It is, isn’t it?  You’re her.  You’re the coffee shop girl.”

“You know John?” she asked, stunned.

“Oh, yeah,” Jack said.  “We go way back.  Good friend of mine, although he’d probably say he tolerates me.  Wow, he said you were gorgeous, but…wow.”

“He…he talks about me?” Rose stammered, still trying to cope with this new development.

“Talks about you?” Jack snorted.  “Won’t shut up.  And let me tell you…he doesn’t think you’re a kid.  No, he thinks you’re, in his words, ‘fantastic.’  Oooh…speak of the devil,” he added, looking behind her.

Rose turned, following his gaze, and saw John walking toward them.  She winced when he paused midstep upon seeing her, turning quickly back to her drink as he approached more slowly.

“Rose?” he asked.  “What are you doing here?”

“Hiya, John,” Jack said cheerfully.

“Yeah, hi,” John said, nodding at him.  “Rose?”

“Just out for a drink with a friend,” Rose said, turning to him with a bright—if slightly brittle—smile.

“And…and you know Jack?” he asked slowly, glancing between them, zeroing in on the way their knees touched as they faced each other.

“Just met him,” Rose said.  “He bought me a drink.”

“I’m sure he did,” John said, annoyance giving an edge to his tone.

“Hey, I didn’t know she was your Rose,” said Jack, raising his hands.  “You never even told me her name.”

“She’s not…my Rose,” John said moodily.

“Well, in that case,” Jack said.  “Rose, would you care to dance?”

“I…”  She glanced up at John, who was looking determinedly at the top shelf bottles while a muscle worked in his jaw.  What the hell.  Her happy friendship with the professor was clearly over.  “Yeah, alright,” she said, taking Jack’s hand and letting him lead her to the dance floor.

“You have to understand,” Jack said as he took her in his arms.  “John doesn’t fall in love.  He doesn’t do the dating and dancing.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” she said.  “Like he says, he—“

“Doesn’t do domestics,” they said in unison, and smirked at each other.

“Right, but that’s the thing,” Jack said.  “He doesn’t know how to be in love, much less how to recognize when someone’s in love with him.  But don’t let that fool you.  He’s been falling hard for you since the day he met you.  I think your little museum excursion was what tipped him over the edge.  He just needs a little push to show his hand is all.”

“And you know all this because?” Rose asked.

“Because I’m probably his best friend,” Jack said, glancing to the side and then grinning down at her.  “But his eyes are shooting _daggers_ at me right now.”

Realization dawned on her at the same time that John appeared at their side and tapped on Jack’s shoulder.

“I think this is my dance,” he said.

“Of course,” Jack said, winking at Rose.  “I’ll just be…over here.”

He wandered back towards the bar, and Rose lost sight of him as John put a hand on her waist.  He took her hand in his free one, bringing it to his chest as he looked down at her, swaying to the music.

“I don’t dance much,” he explained softly.

“Not as much as Jack?” she asked, giving him a teasing, tongue touched grin.

“ _No one_ dances as much as Jack,” he said, rolling his eyes, then smiling when she laughed.

“Dunno, you’re doing alright,” she said hesitantly.

“I shouldn’t be,” he said, suddenly serious.  “I shouldn’t be dancing with you at all.”

“What if I want to dance with you?” she asked, stretching his metaphor.

“You deserve better,” he said.  “I’m…too old, too stuck in my ways.”

“But I want you,” she said softly, looking up at him earnestly.  “Whatever you think I deserve, it doesn’t matter, cause I’ll still want you.”

He stopped moving then, his eyes lit with some internal struggle as he gazed down at her.  Her breath caught when his eyes dropped to her mouth, and he murmured her name before bending his head and pressing his lips to hers, drawing her closer as she melted into his kiss.

oOoOo

Three months later, just after her twentieth birthday, he asked her to marry him.  Although they’d only known each other a total of six months, he reasoned that he’d waited long enough for her to be in his life, and even longer debating whether he could allow it.  With that in mind, they had a simple ceremony three months after that.  Jack was best man, of course, and claimed all credit for the happy union during his speech at the reception.  Bride and groom both rolled their eyes heavily at this, but John did hold his glass up in acknowledgement as he pulled Rose closer.

With John’s encouragement, she’d even gone back to school, enrolled in a graphics design course.  It had to be put on hold, however, when she found out she was pregnant, barely six months after they’d gotten married.  She’d been terrified, at first, that this would be far too much in the way of domestics for John, but he’d surprised her, beaming and scooping her into his arms, spinning her around in his excitement.

It was two years to the day since they’d met that they welcomed Ian Thomas Smith into the world.  Rose said that he had his father’s eyes, stubbornly keeping to this regardless of how many people told her that all babies were born with blue eyes.  John had simply smiled and said he was just glad Ian hadn’t inherited his ears or nose, lightly kissing Rose’s nose to make his point.

Another year passed.  Ian was toddling around and already showing signs of having his father’s ridiculously high intelligence.  John was devoted to his little family, spending every minute he could with his growing boy and young wife.  He and Rose still had their moments of temper and annoyance, as all couples do, but it never lasted long, and they always worked through it in the end.  That was the important bit.

Then came the winter, and the ice.  Then came the car, and John pushing Rose and Ian to safety, but not quite making it himself.  Then came the blood as she cradled his head, begging him not to die, while Ian tugged ineffectually at John’s hand, not understanding why his energetic father wouldn’t get up.  Then came her name, carried on John’s last breath as he died in her arms.

And it was on a cold day in the beginning of the year, as Rose watched the casket holding the body of John Smith being lowered into the ground, that Rose remembered the fundamental fact of her existence.  She was someone that got left behind.  What was more, every one that disappeared took a bit of her with them…and now, she had nothing left.


	2. A Noble Man

_Five years later._

Rose bit her lip and tilted her head to the side, examining the graphic on her screen critically.  She dimly registered the office phone ringing, but didn’t look up as she wrinkled her nose, adjusting the font for the eighteenth time.  Sometimes, these little promotional bits came in a flurry of inspiration…sometimes, like now, they absolutely refused to behave.  She still had three others to do before the end of the day, something she was trying very hard not to think about, but without much success.  She liked quoting Douglas Adams at Sarah Jane when she got behind: “I love deadlines…I love the whooshing sound they make when they fly by.”

Her boss usually smiled at this; however, the clients did not, so Rose did her best to stay focused.  This proved impossible, though, when the receptionist buzzed her phone.

“Rose?” the girl said hesitantly, and Rose looked over at the phone with trepidation.  “It’s…it’s Mr. Saunders.  About Ian.  He sounds…unhappy.”

“Mister Saunders is always unhappy,” Rose said with a sigh.  “Thanks, Carol.”

She stared at the phone a minute longer, biting her nail.  Maybe if she didn’t answer he’d just…stop being angry.  Since that rarely worked, she took a deep breath, steeling herself as she picked up the phone.

“This is Rose,” she said, in her most adult and professional voice.

“Miss Smith, we have a very grave problem,” said a snooty voice on the other end of the line, and Rose winced.

“And…what would that be?” Rose asked, rubbing her temple to ward off the headache she could already feel coming.

“Your son decided that my lesson wasn’t interesting enough,” he snapped.  “And instead snuck off to play chess with some vagrant in the park.”

“Vagrant?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, and a very insulting one at that,” Mister Saunders continued.  “And he’s cultivated an extremely disrespectful attitude in your son as well.”

“What, all in one game of chess?” Rose asked before she could stop herself.  “Quite the _productive_ vagrant.”

“Miss Smith!” Mister Saunders cried.  “I will not be insulted in this fashion.  I’ve told you before of your son’s blatant disregard for me or for the lessons I set for him, and you obviously have no means of controlling his behavior.  Given your own upbringing, this is hardly a surprise, but I did think when you hired me that you wanted more for your son, despite his unfortunate circumstances.  Perhaps if his father was around—“

“Chances are, his father would have throttled you for insinuating that a six year old is less worthy of your time because of his ‘unfortunate circumstances’,” Rose said coldly.

“I’d hardly expect less from someone of your ilk,” Mister Saunders sneered, and Rose bit her fist to keep from screaming in frustration.  “Be that as it may, it will hardly be necessary.  I quit.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Rose said tersely, and slammed the phone down.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.  As he’d himself pointed out, this wasn’t the first time she’d had a problem with the tutor, so there was a large part of her saying good riddance to the headache.  The timing, however, was less than ideal.  She couldn’t leave…these projects needed to get done, and her overly inquisitive son, while an absolute delight in her life, made working at home difficult even  under the best circumstances.  And although Sarah Jane would undoubtedly be kind, being a single mum herself, Rose didn’t want to bring her problems at home to work.  She chewed a nail for a second, staring at the phone, then grabbed it and dialed quickly before she could change her mind.

“Hey, doll,” a voice said, picking up on the second ring.  “How’s life?”

“Hey, Jack,” she said, not quite succeeding in keeping the weariness out of her voice.

“Uh oh,” Jack murmured.  “I know that tone.  Saunders raising a stink again?”

“You know me too well,” said Rose with a little chuckle.

“I told you, you should have fired that guy weeks ago,” Jack said.

“Well, it seems that will no longer be a problem,” Rose informed him.  “He just quit.  That’s…sort of why I’m calling.  I’m really, really sorry, but I’ve got these projects, and I can’t get away, and there’s no one else—“

“And you need someone to hang out with the little guy for the afternoon?” Jack asked.  “Rose, you know you never have to be sorry about that.  I’ve told you before, I’ll be here for you.  Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Jack,” she said in a small voice.

“No problem,” he said easily.  “Besides, he’s like a team mascot around here.  Everyone loves him.  But anyway, I’m on my way out the door now, and I’ll take him out for lunch…give me a call later when you want me to drop him off.”

“Will do,” she said.  “Thank you so much.  Seriously.  I’ll pay you back for lunch.”

“Stop it,” he admonished.  “Just worry about you, Rosie.  I’ll see you later.”

He clicked off, and Rose shook her head as she replaced the handset on the cradle.  She sent a silent thanks to the universe for the existence of Jack Harkness before returning her focus to the screen, determined to finish her projects and retrieve her son as soon as possible.

oOoOo

Jack drove to Rose’s flat in a state of acute annoyance.  Not because he was spending the afternoon with Ian, obviously, but because of the reason why.  He’d had an issue with Saunders and his attitude since they’d met two months ago, and his dislike had been ratcheting higher with every instance of arrogance and condescension since.  Rose and Ian had it hard enough without someone making them feel worse because of assumptions that were completely wrong.  She never bothered to correct anyone—she said it didn’t matter, but while she rarely let her feelings show anymore, he knew it still hurt her.

He took a breath as he parked his car, steadying himself before he faced Saunders.  Whatever he’d said to Rose had left her sounding drained, a sure sign of anger and pain that she wasn’t letting out.  If he didn’t relax before facing the tutor, Jack was certain he’d deck him.  He took another deep breath, then let himself out of the car, jogging up the steps to her flat.

“Uncle Jack!” a happy voice cried as he let himself into the flat, and he bent down to catch the small blonde torpedo that had launched itself at him.  Jack picked the boy up upside down, eliciting a storm of giggles before righting him on his hip.  “I learned a new way to play chess today.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack asked.  “How’s that?”

“It’s called la resistance, and its where all the pawns get together and gang up on all the other pieces,” he explained, then frowned.  “I don’t think it’s officially sanctioned gameplay, though.”

“I don’t think so,” Jack said, smiling.  “Nice thought, though.”

“Oh, yes, of course, encourage the behavior,” Saunders said snidely, coming around the corner.

“It’s a creative way to play chess,” Jack said.  “It’s not like he’s staging a coup.”

“Yes, well, the…individual who taught him this ‘creative play’,” Saunders said with exaggerated air quotes, “is the same one who taught him some rather explicit language.”

“Oh really?” Jack asked, arching an eyebrow and looking down at Ian.  “Care to share?”

The boy’s face turned red, but there was a flash in his blue eyes very reminiscent of his father as he said, “Why don’t you tell him what you said first, Mister Saunders?”

“Young man, that is highly disrespectful!” Saunders said in a shocked tone as Jack’s eyes flew to him.

“I’m six,” Ian said practically.  “What’s your excuse?”

“I beg your pardon!” Saunders exclaimed.  “I have never met such a rude little boy.”

“What did you say?” Jack asked in a low voice.

“I’m sorry?”

“What.  Did you.  Say?” Jack repeated slowly.

“I hardly think it matters,” Saunders said, drawing himself up haughtily.  “It in no way excuses such flagrant disrespect of this child’s elders.”

“He called Mummy a stupid chav,” Ian offered, and Jack’s grip tightened as his eyes narrowed.

“That is no excuse for calling your tutor a…a prick!” Saunders sputtered.

“Like he said,” Jack said, putting Ian down and standing to his full height in front of Saunders.  “He’s six.  And you insulted his mom.  Who is paying you to teach him, not insult him and his family.  I think you should leave now.”

“I trust you have my final pay,” Saunders said, his voice only shaking a little.

“I do not,” Jack said.  “And you won’t be getting it.  If you try to contact Rose for _any_ sort of compensation, we’ll be having words.  ‘Prick’ will be the least of your worries at that point.”

“It’s really no wonder he acts the way he does,” Saunders said, picking up his briefcase.

“In defense of his mother?” Jack asked.  “Nah, not really a surprise.  You’re just lucky his dad’s gone, or then you _really_ would have seen angry.  What I’m trying to figure out is what the hell you’re still doing here.”

Saunders made a disgusted noise and strode past him out the door.  Jack followed, shaking his head as he closed the door behind the man.  Then he turned to Ian, waiting in the hall and picking at his nails nervously, but standing quickly to attention when he saw Jack watching him.

“You alright, kid?” he asked.

“Is Mummy very mad?” Ian asked hesitantly, rather than answering.

“Not as mad as she’s going to be,” Jack muttered, then crouched in front of the boy.  “But not at you.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  Well, maybe try not to use that word…but otherwise…your dad would’ve been proud of you, sticking up for your mom like that.”

“My friend said more,” Ian said, a little frown appearing between his eyes.  “But Mister Saunders said we shouldn’t listen to transistors.”

“Pretty sure it was transients,” Jack said, smiling as he stood to grab Ian’s coat from the peg by the door, his brain automatically shifting gears around Ian’s inconsistent vocabulary.

“Yeah,” Ian said, letting Jack help him into his coat.  “What’s that mean?”

“Means drifter, homeless,” Jack said, zipping his coat.

“That’s not right, then,” Ian said confidently.  “My friend’s not a trans—transient.  He’s a noble.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack asked, his lips twitching as they left the flat and paused to lock the door behind them.

“Yeah, he said so,” said Ian as Jack took his hand and they walked down the stairs.  “That’s his name.  James Noble.”

Jack nearly broke an ankle tripping on a step, then looked down at the boy sharply.  “James Noble, huh?”  He whistled as they reached the car park.  “That…is interesting.  Ian, go ahead and get in your seat, kay?” he said, opening the back passenger side door for him.  “I’m just gonna make a quick phone call.”

“Kay,” Ian said, crawling into the car.  “Then lunch?”

“Then lunch,” Jack said, pulling out his phone and dialing as he walked a few steps away.  He put it to his ear as he turned, watching Ian buckling himself in as it rang.

“Jackie-boy!” said an exuberant voice on the other end after the fourth ring.  “I was gonna call you.”

“I’ll be damned,” Jack said with a laugh.  “When did you get back into town?”

“Yesterday,” James informed him.  “How’d you know?”

“Psychic,” Jack said with a grin.  “But it seems we’ve also got a mutual friend.”

“Oh yeah?” James asked.  “Who’s that?”

“Meet me for lunch and I’ll tell you,” Jack said.  “How’s Italian sound?”

“Molto bene,” James said.  “Ten minutes?”

“Eh, make it fifteen,” Jack said, then hung up and walked back to the car.  “Alright, kid, pasta and pizza sound like a plan?”

oOoOo

“Your taste in friends has significantly improved since the last time I saw you,” James remarked, arching an eyebrow as Jack and Ian entered the waiting area of the restaurant.  “Not in height, mind…but definitely in quality.”

“Not gonna argue,” Jack said with a smile.

“James!” Ian cried happily.  “Are you gonna have pizza and pasta with us?”

“I sincerely hope so,” James said with a smile, crouching to be closer to eye level with the boy.  “Although this is assuming that your Mister Saunders will _not_ be joining us.”

“He quit,” Ian said, wrinkling his nose, and James flashed a look to Jack, who nodded.  “How do you know Uncle Jack?”

“Oh…known him for years,” James replied, flipping topics with ease.  “Before he even was Uncle Jack.”

“Then how come I’ve never met you?” Ian asked suspiciously.

“Just unlucky, I suppose,” James said with a shrug.  “The loss is definitely mine.”

“Well, yeah,” Ian said frankly, and James burst out laughing.

The hostess chose that moment to collect them, and Jack watched with interest as Ian took James’ hand and practically dragged him to the table, taking as a matter of course that they would be sitting next to each other.

“So, where are you coming from this time, Jamie?” asked Jack, smiling when James frowned at the nickname.

“India,” he said, deciding not to rise to the bait.

“You were in India?” Ian asked, his eyes wide.  “Did you ride a efalent?”

“No elephants this time, I’m afraid,” James said with a smile.  “Although I have.  A bit like riding a moving table.  This time, though, I was teaching English.”

“Didn’t you do that in Thailand, too?” Jack asked.

“Yep,” he replied.  “Until you got me kicked out.  Maybe when you’re older, Uncle Jack can tell you why neither of us can ever go back to Bangkok,” he added to Ian, arching an eyebrow.

“Hey, that was not…entirely my fault,” Jack said.  “You’re the one who decided to play bartender.”

“You’re the one who spiked the drinks,” James countered as the waitress walked up, setting down waters for them.

“Um, hullo,” she said uncertainly.  “I’m Jessica.”

“Hi, Jessica,” Jack said, flashing a grin at her.  “Jack Harkness.”

“Stop it,” James said, reaching for his water and taking a quick drink.

“I was just saying hello,” Jack said.

“Uh huh,” James said, arching an eyebrow.

“Anyway,” Jack said pointedly, turning back to the waitress and ordering the pizza and family size spaghetti and meat sauce, ignoring James’ smirk.

“Have you been to Italy?” Ian asked as the waitress moved off.

“Yeah,” James said with a nod, putting his water back down.  “That was…oh…ten years ago?”

“Did you have pizza?” he asked.

“Uh huh, but it’s not like the pizza here,” James explained.  “It’s very, very thin, and can have a lot of really strange toppings, like scallops and things, or even no toppings, just sauce and maybe some spices.”

Ian looked thoughtful, then said, “I think I like our pizza better.”

“It is good here,” James laughed, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Did you go to Venice?” Ian asked.  “I saw it in one of my dad’s books.  Did you drive a gonzola?”

 “I have been to Venice, but I didn’t drive a gondola,” James said, and Jack smiled at the way the other man once again managed to smoothly correct the boy without actually making mention of the mistake.  “I did _ride_ in one, though… _and_ I got sick.  It wasn’t pretty.  The city is beautiful, though.”

“Have you been _everywhere_?” Ian asked.

“Not yet,” James said, grinning at him.

Ian continued to pepper James with questions even after the food arrived, clearly already worshipping the ground he walked on.  For his part, James answered all of his questions, and often had the boy in giggles with some of his more outlandish tales, including one involving being treed by a tiger.  Between stories, James asked questions of his own about places that Ian knew about or wanted to go.  Once or twice, Jack saw a flash of residual annoyance in James’ eyes when a sentence started with “Mister Saunders says…”, making him more intent than ever on finding out exactly what had transpired between “the transient” and the tutor.

“Alright, kiddo,” Jack said as they finished lunch, James insisting on paying the bill.  “Time for us to go.”

“Do we _have_ to go to Torchwood?” Ian pouted.

“’Fraid so,” Jack said, helping him back into his coat.  “I have to at least pretend I’m earning my salary.  Besides, Tosh and Gwen would have my neck if I don’t make an appearance with you…and I’m pretty sure they bought cookies.”

“Oh,” Ian said, smiling.  “That’s alright then.”

“When in doubt, use bribery,” James murmured, shrugging into his own jacket.

“Hey, don’t knock it,” Jack said.  “You have any plans this afternoon?  I’ve got a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m sure you do,” James said, arching an eyebrow and glancing down at Ian as he swung his keys around on his finger.  “I guess I could make a stop at Torchwood.”

“You’re coming too?” Ian asked, bouncing in excitement.  “Uncle Jack, can I ride with James?”

“Sorry, kid,” Jack said.  “Your seat’s in my car, and your mom would cheerfully murder me if she found out I let you get into someone else’s car without it.”

Ian’s nose wrinkled unhappily, and James reached down to ruffle his hair.  “It’s alright…Torchwood’s only ten minutes away.  Be there in no time.”

“I guess,” Ian said, letting out a long-suffering sigh.

Jack shared a grin with James before they headed out the door toward their respective vehicles.  Jack got Ian in the car and drove toward the tech company he worked at thoughtfully, an idea forming in his mind as the little boy continued to chatter on about his new friend.

He was going to have to ask James how long he was staying in town.

 

 


	3. Introductions and Altercations

James pulled the seldom used Torchwood access card out of his wallet as he walked toward the corporate skyscraper, heading for a less conspicuous side entrance that was close to the lifts.  He would count it as a good day if he could keep knowledge of his presence in the building limited to Jack’s team.  He knew Yvonne Hartman, the current CEO, meant well, but he always felt uncomfortably like a prisoner when he was around her.

He let out a breath when he made it to Jack’s suite of offices without incident, smiling when Tosh let out a happy shout and ran to hug him.

“Jack just texted that he was on his way up,” she said as she pulled away.  “He didn’t say you were coming too.”

“Well, how could I come into town and not pay a visit to my favorite geek squad?” he asked.

“The same way you did two years ago,” Gwen said drily as she came up to claim her own hug.  “It’s good to see you, James.”

“You too,” he said, embracing her tightly.  “And that…was special circumstances,” he added as he stepped back.

“Yeah, I know,” Gwen said, sympathy and concern on her face.  “How’s your family doing?”

“They’re alright,” he said with a shrug, not wanting to delve into the reasons for his last visit home, or the arguments that caused his abrupt departure.

“Oh, lovely,” said a snide voice from the lab doorway.  “If it isn’t the almighty Doctor.”

“Owen,” James said evenly, arching an eyebrow at the tech.  “Always a pleasure.”

“Ignore him,” Jack said from behind him, and James stepped to the side to let him and Ian through.  “He’s just mad that he can’t beat you in looks or brains.”

Owen snorted, but Tosh eyed the tech critically.  “Dunno…he’s not so bad.”

“Thank you, Tosh,” Owen said with a smirk.  “At least some people have taste.”

“Or they’ve been quietly, desperately, and inexplicably in love with an idiot for years,” another voice murmured, and James grinned as he turned to face Ianto, who already had two steaming mugs of tea ready for him and Jack.  “Nice to see you, James.”

“And you,” he said, taking one of the mugs and sipping it before making an appreciative noise.  “Dunno how you do it, Ianto.  Better than all the tea in China.”

“Because I’m British, obviously,” Ianto deadpanned, and James beamed at him.

“Kay, little man,” Jack said, having helped Ian out of his coat already.  “I need to talk to James for a little bit, so can you handle hanging out with Gwen and Tosh for a little while?”

“That depends,” Ian said slowly.  “I was promised cookies.”

James choked on his tea as Gwen stepped closer to the boy.  “You got lucky.  I have fresh cookies in my office, _and_ a new book about dinosaurs.”

“What era?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” the welsh woman replied, unphased and still smiling.  “But the cookies are peanut butter.”

“That’s alright then,” Ian said, beaming at her and taking her hand, pulling her toward her office.

James chuckled, then followed Jack to his own office.  Jack sat down behind his desk as James closed the door, then settled into one of the chairs in front of Jack’s desk, resting an ankle on his opposite knee and taking another sip of tea.

“You’ve made a new best friend,” Jack commented, leaning back and playing with a pen.

“I could do worse,” James said with a shrug, then looked at his friend seriously.  “Who is he, Jack?  Never knew you to hang out with kids on purpose…no matter how cool they are.”

“You remember John Smith?” Jack asked.  “You met him a couple of times.”

“The history professor?” James asked in surprise.  “Yeah, I liked him.  Ooohh…”  He trailed off, remembering Jack mentioning the death of his friend several years back.  He looked out the office window thoughtfully, a muscle working in his jaw as he gripped his ankle, his residual anger from earlier burning again.  “That bloody arsehole,” he muttered.

“I’m going to assume that you’re no longer talking about John,” Jack said.

“No, that…tutor,” he said, spitting out the last word as he jumped up, setting his tea down on the desk and starting to pace.  “It’s bad enough,” he went on, a hand running through his hair, “to say…utterly stupid and cruel things to a _child_ , but when the basis for those things isn’t even _true—_ “  He stopped, swallowing hard.

Jack looked at him for a long moment, then leaned forward and rested his arms on the desk.  “What exactly happened?”

James sighed, running a hand down his face.  “I was just wandering, honestly.  But then this kid—Ian—was there, at one of those chess boards they have set up in the park, and he was asking me how the knights move…”

oOoOo

“Knights move in an ‘L’,” James replied, looking at the boy, who frowned and turned back to the board.

“Do they _always_ move like that?” he asked.

“They have as long as I’ve been playing chess,” James said with a shrug.

“That’s silly,” the boy said.

“Well…” James said slowly, approaching and sitting across from him.  “If the rules don’t make sense…change them.”

“Like how?” the boy asked, looking up at him with startling blue eyes.

“Oh, there’s always a way,” James said, reaching forward and rearranging the pieces back into the beginning formation.  “I’m James, by the way.  James Noble.”

“I’m Ian Smith,” the boy said, watching with interest.

“So, Ian, let’s say…we’ve got these pawns, right?” he said, gesturing to them.  “And they’re basically there…well, to be pawns.  It’s the kings and the queens and the bishops and the knights that are the power pieces, and the pawns are basically there to get taken in their place.  They might take a piece or two, but their basic purpose is to get taken.  Right?”

“Right,” Ian said, leaning forward.

“Okay, and they can only move one square, right?” he asked, pushing a white pawn forward.

“Except on the first move,” Ian said.

“Exactly,” James said, pushing it forward another square.  “But, so can the other side.  So,” he continued, pushing the black counterpart toward the white one.  “If they were to meet, and, say, _realize_ that they’re basically there to die for no other reason than because a king doesn’t want to…well, that might change the rules.  Because at some point…a pawn gets tired of being a pawn…and they realize that there’s a lot more of them than there are kings and queens,” he went on, moving pieces around.

“And they can tell that to the knights and bishops too,” Ian said, tentatively pushing a knight forward.  “Because then they can all live together without the kings and queens telling them to fight each other.”

“Viva la resistance,” James said, beaming at him.  “Out of curiosity, Ian, shouldn’t there be an adult…somewhere?”

“Mister Saunders is over there,” Ian said, waving vaguely at a group of trees with one hand, resting his chin in the other as he continued to look at the board.  “He’s learning about trees.”

James’ eyes narrowed, and his gaze drifted to the side for a second.  “ _He’s_ learning about trees?”

“Well, I suppose I’m supposed to be learning about trees,” Ian said thoughtfully.  “But he’s a lot more interested in it than I am, so I figured I’d just leave him to it.”

“I’m sure he has the best intentions,” James offered, his lips twitching.

“He says I’m disrespectful,” Ian admitted, looking up at him.  “Do you think I’m disrespectful?”

“You don’t seem that way to me,” James said honestly.  “Why’s he think that?”

“He doesn’t like me,” Ian said with a sigh, looking back down at the board.  “He says I’m just an estate brat.”

“I say he’s just a prick,” James said before he could stop himself, and looked up sharply when Ian giggled.  “I…I shouldn’t have said that.  Don’t say that.”

“ _Ian!”_ a voice shouted behind James before he could say anything else, and he turned to see a short, skinny man rushing toward them.  “Get away from that man right now!  What do you think you’re playing at, sneaking off like that?”

“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm,” James said, turning in his seat.

“I fail to see how any of this is your business,” the man snapped, and James’ eyebrows shot up as the tutor looked him up and down.  “Exactly what is your place in this?  Preying on young boys in the park?”

“Leave him alone,” Ian said, slipping off his seat to stand in front of Saunders.  “He’s my friend.”

“’Friend’,” the man sneered, taking the boy’s arm roughly.  “Regardless, this display of insubordination is inexcusable.  There are rules in polite society, young man; respecting your elders is one of them.”

“When the rules don’t make sense, you should change them,” Ian said stubbornly, pulling his arm from the tutor’s grasp.

“Oh, you would think so,” the little man said in a nasty tone.  “What else would that stupid chav teach her bastard son?”

“Prick,” Ian said as James shot to his feet, anger boiling in him in the face of the tutor’s blatant cruelty.

“I beg your pardon!” Saunders cried, shocked.

“I think Ian’s got it right, Mister Saunders,” James said in a low voice.

“Once again, I don’t need the input of some idiot this little mongrel stumbled upon,” Saunders snapped.

“I disagree,” said James, his hands tightening at his sides.  “Because simply being an adult doesn’t _entitle_ you to respect, and insulting a child and his mother certainly doesn’t _earn_ you any.  And I don’t give a damn where he came from, or who his mother is, if you honestly believe that you can act like such an arrogant, classist arse and still garner _anyone’s_ respect, much less his, you’re sorely mistaken.  Frankly, given what _I’ve_ seen of this boy, his mother must be an amazing woman, because not only has she evidently managed to raise him on her own, but she’s been able to do so despite your apparent best efforts to make him believe that either of them are in any way less than you.”

“I will not stand for this,” Saunders said, taking Ian’s arm again.  “Come on, Ian.  We’re going home.  And you can bet that your mother will be hearing about this.”

“Good, you can tell her that she’s hired an incompetent tosser who’s insulting her while on her pay,” James retorted, then crouched down next to Ian, who was watching him with wide eyes.  “And if he _doesn’t_ tell her, you be sure to,” he continued in a softer voice.  “Because you both deserve better…don’t let anyone like him tell you different, alright?”

“Alright,” Ian said in a small voice.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ian Smith,” he said, reaching forward and squeezing the little boy’s arm.  “You take care.”

He shot another dark look at Saunders as he straightened, then turned and stalked off into the woods.

oOoOo

“Wow,” Jack said, shaking his head slowly as James finished talking.  “I don’t think ‘prick’ covers it.”

“Yeah,” James said, running his hands through his hair again.  “I don’t get it, Jack.  I mean, I get that there’s…unsavory people in the world, but why treat Ian and his mum like that?  It’s not like being a single mum is _that_ outlandish a notion anymore, and even so...”

Jack sighed.  “Because she _does_ live on a council estate, and because she’s young…and looks younger.”

“Hold on,” James said, frowning as he stopped his pacing, spinning toward Jack.  “John Smith was in his late thirties at _least_.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling.  “But he married a twenty year old when he was forty.”

James buried his hands in his pockets, staring into the middle distance and whistling.  “Well done, John.  Still…that’s no reason to act like that, especially to a little boy,” he added, looking back at Jack.

“You’re not going to get any argument from me,” Jack said, shaking his head.  “I’m glad he’s gone…even more so now.”  He sighed, leaning back in his chair again.  “So what about you, James?  How is it being home…aside from accidental altercations with strangers in the park.”

“Oh…you know,” James said, shrugging as he walked back to the chair and sat down.  He slouched down in it, kicking his feet up on Jack’s desk, ignoring the arched brow that Jack made.  “Being home is always far better when I’m not actually _at_ home.”

“Any improvement over last time?” Jack asked.

“Well,” James said, drawing out the word as he tilted his head.  “No one’s actually yelled, and we haven’t had any funerals…but I’ve only been home a day, so there’s still time.”

“How long are you staying?” Jack asked, playing with his pen again.

“Eh, not sure,” James said, reaching up a hand to scratch the back of his head.  “Donna and Granddad might actually lock me in a room if I try to leave too soon, so probably a couple of weeks, at least.  Providing Mum and I don’t actually try to kill each other in that time, mind,” he added, tugging on his ear.

“Of course,” Jack said with a chuckle.  “What’re you going to do while you’re here?”

“I don’t know,” James said, lacing his fingers together over his stomach and staring at the ceiling, genuinely baffled.  “I suppose I could always ask Yvonne if she needs help with anything in R&D.”

“Don’t,” Jack warned.  “She’ll never let you leave.”

“Too right,” said James, looking back at Jack.  “What about you lot?  How’s that security software holding up?”

“I’m sure it’s probably due for a patch from the Doctor,” Jack said with a smile, and James rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna need your computer,” said James, pulling a pair of glasses out of his jacket as he stood before shrugging out of it and draping it over the chair.

“All yours,” Jack said, shuffling together some paperwork that had been demanding his attention and pushing away from the desk to let James work his technological magic.

oOoOo

Three hours later, Jack looked up from his paperwork as James stood and stretched.

“Done?”

“Yeah,” James said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.  “That should cover some of the new things that have come along, and a few holes you’ve developed.”

“You are a technological god among men,” Jack said, standing and tossing the paperwork on the desk as James stepped around it and pulled his jacket from the chair.

“I’d make a bad god,” James said, shrugging into his jacket and slipping his glasses back into the inside pocket.  “I’ll settle for better than you.”

“Humility suits you,” Jack remarked dryly, and James flashed a grin.

Ian chose that moment to wander in Jack’s office, munching on a cookie and holding another in his other hand.

“Do you like peanut butter cookies, James?” he asked, holding out the uneaten one.

“Love ‘em,” James said, crouching down and taking the cookie, winking as he took a bite that took off half the cookie in one go.

“Where’s my cookie?” Jack asked as Ian giggled.

“Gwen has more,” Ian said, gesturing behind him, and James grinned again before popping the other half of the cookie into his mouth.

“He used to bring _me_ cookies,” Jack grumbled.

“Novelty is a dangerous thing,” James said, reaching forward to tousle the boy’s hair affectionately.

“Are you leaving?” Ian asked.

“Yeah, about to.”

“Am I gonna see you again?” the little boy asked.

“If I’m lucky,” James said, smiling at him as he stood up.  “I think…you and Uncle Jack should walk me to the door.”

“’Kay,” Ian said, taking James’ hand as they walked out of the office.  As soon as they hit the hall, however, Ian released James and ran forward with a happy cry of “Mummy!”

Jack watched fondly as Rose laughed, her hands stroking Ian’s head as his little arms wrapped around her thighs, then glanced at James, whose jaw had gone slack.

“Close your mouth, flies will get in,” he whispered, bumping James’ shoulder with his own before turning his attention back to Rose.  “Hey, doll.  Thought I said I’d drop him off.”

“Yeah, but I got done sooner than I thought,” said Rose.  “A client called and wanted to completely revamp his campaign, which means an extension, which is wonderful since I hadn’t actually started on the original design anyway.”

“Love it when things work out like that,” Jack said with a grin, then nodded at James.  “Rose, this is a friend of mine, James Noble.  James, this is Ian’s mom, Rose Smith.”

“Hello,” she said, holding out a hand.

“Hello,” said James, beaming at her as he shook her hand.  “Pleasure to meet you.”

“He’s my friend too, Mummy,” Ian piped up, still hugging one of her legs.  “We played chess and had pizza and pasta and he rode a efa… _elephant_.”

“Quite a day,” Rose said, smiling down at him, then looked up at James, her eyes narrowing slightly.  “You played chess, huh?  Would this have been in the park?”

“Heard about that, eh?” James asked, wincing and scratching at the back of his head.

“He got really angry at Mister Saunders,” Ian said, his face serious as Rose looked down at him.  “He said Mister Saunders is a incomp’tent tosser, and we deserve better.”

“Did he?” Rose asked, looking back up at James with raised eyebrows.

“Well…” James said, drawing out the word, then buried his hands in his pockets, looking chagrined.  “Sorry.”

Rose sighed, shaking her head.  “Don’t be.  You’re probably right.  But thanks…for coming to his defense like that.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, tilting his head as he studied her.  “It wasn’t just him, though.  You deserve better too.”

“I…thank you,” Rose said, looking a little flustered as she looked down at Ian again.  “Alright, schrunchkin…you ready to go?”

“You know,” Jack interjected, glancing between Rose and James.  “You’re going to need a new tutor, and since it’s James’ fault your last one quit…maybe he could fill in…at least until you find a new one.  You did say you’d be in town for a couple of weeks, right, James?”

“Oh…well…” James started, looking suddenly cornered.

“Can he, Mummy?” Ian asked excitedly, letting go of her leg to tug on her arm.  “Can James be my new tutor?”

“Oh…I’m sure James has other things he wants to do while he’s here,” Rose said.  “Especially if he’s not going to be in town long.”

“Oh,” Ian said softly, his face falling.  “Okay.”

“Don’t…don’t do that…” James said, grimacing.

“It’s alright,” Rose said, giving James a small smile.  “You don’t owe us anything.  Really, you probably did us a favor.  C’mon, Ian.”

James opened his mouth again as she turned away, but closed it again after a second, looking down with a quiet sigh.

“You did that on purpose,” he muttered in a low voice to Jack.

“I would never,” Jack said in a shocked tone.

“And now you’re lying,” James said.  “You’re manipulating people and you’re lying.  You’re a terrible person.”  He shook his head at Jack, then turned back to where Rose was helping Ian with his coat by the door.  “Rose, wait,” he said, striding over to her when she looked up.  “He’s right, it is sort of my fault…even if it was completely justified, I might add.  But I really don’t…have anything else to do while I’m here.  So I could fill in—temporarily—if you want.”

“I…I dunno,” Rose said, hesitating as Jack stepped closer, leaning against a wall and watching the exchange.  “I mean, do you actually have any teaching experience?”

“He taught English in India,” Ian put in.  “And in Thailand until Uncle Jack got him kicked out of Bangkok.”

“Wow, you really do listen to _everything_ , don’t you?” James asked, looking cagey until Rose giggled.  He looked back at her, his expression softening.  “He’s right, though…I did teach more than once.  What do you say?  Give me a shot?”

Rose’s gaze roamed uncertainly until it fell on Jack.  “What do you think?” she asked him.

“Wouldn’t have suggested it if I thought it was a bad idea,” he said with a shrug.  “James is a certified genius, so you’re not going to really do better as far as knowledge base, and he’s really good with Ian.”

Rose looked back at James, eyeing him up and down, then looked down at Ian’s hopeful expression and sighed.  All three smiled, recognizing the victory.

“Alright, fine,” she said.  “I already told my boss I’d be working from home tomorrow, so you can start on Monday.  Eight o’clock.”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” James said, beaming at her.  “Look at that, Ian…got lucky after all,” he added, winking at the boy.  “I’ll see you then.”

“Kay,” Ian said.  “’Bye James!”

“’Bye,” he said, then cut a look at Jack.  “I’ll talk to _you_ later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jack said, completely unapologetic, and James shook his head.

“See you next week, Rose,” he said, reaching out and squeezing her arm gently as he passed.

Rose looked after him for a moment, a confused expression on her face before she turned back to Jack, suddenly serious.

“If this turns out badly, it’s on your head,” she said.

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

“Alright,” she said with a curt nod as she knelt down to zip Ian’s coat.  She hesitated for second, then looked back up at Jack, a hint of insecurity in her eyes.  “You’re still coming on Saturday, right?”

“Of course,” he said, sobering.

As they said their goodbyes, Rose insisting on thanking Gwen and Tosh for helping with Ian, Jack’s thoughts swirled around Rose and her inability to catch a break.  It made a sick sort of sense that things would be hectic at work at the same time that she lost her tutor, especially if there was any way that all of it could fall during _this_ week, coinciding with the anniversary of John’s death, easily the hardest day of the year for her.

 


	4. Lost

Rose watched Jack and Ian walk hand in hand toward the cemetery gates before sinking to the cold ground, leaning her back against John’s headstone.  As with every year, she felt exhausted just from the effort it took to keep herself together on this particular day.  She was always grateful when Jack took Ian for lunch, giving her a window of time to not be alright.

“The dead never judge,” she murmured, letting her head fall back against the cold stone.  “I wish the living were as kind.”  She paused, bending her knees and resting her arms on them.  “Saunders quit.  You probably would have fired him a long time ago.  _Or_ hit him.  Probably both.  But he’s gone now…that’s what matters.

“Jack found me a replacement,” she went on.  “Mind you…he’s sort of the reason Saunders quit.  The replacement, not Jack.  James Noble, that’s his name.  Apparently, he took issue with Saunders’ attitude toward Ian…he called him a prick…among other things.  And he told Ian that we both deserve better…after knowing Ian for maybe ten minutes, before meeting me at all.  You’d probably like him.  Neither of you suffer injustices quietly.”

She paused again, picking at a hole starting in the knee of her jeans.  “I’m not sure about it, though.  Maybe I should just try to work from home for a few days until I find someone else.  He’d only be temporary anyway.  He travels…he’s only in town for a couple of weeks, so even if he did tutor Ian, I’d need another replacement sooner than later.  Probably better to just hire someone else.  Ian already worships him…he’s barely stopped talking about him since the other day.  The longer he stays, the harder it’s going to be when he leaves.  I don’t even know anything about him.  He’s just…someone who was there.  I need more than that to leave him with Ian, don’t I?”

She turned her head to the side, looking at the engraved letters on the stone for a moment before reaching a hand up, tracing them gently with her fingers.  It would be so much easier if John was still here.  What she wanted was someone to just look at the situation and…fix it, somehow.  And he would have.  He would have told her it was going to be fine, and he would work some magic, and it would be.  But he was gone, and he took all the magic with him.

“It’s not fair, you know,” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak without her voice breaking as her eyes started burning.  “People are dead so much longer than they’re alive.  You’ve been gone longer than you were with me,” she said, swallowing hard as her throat started to close on her, the tears building in her eyes threatening to choke her.  “But I still miss you all the time.  Every time I see that flash in Ian’s eyes when he’s irritated, or the way they light up when he discovers something new.  Every time I walk past the coffee shop, or that pub.”

Her voice did break then, as she remembered the night they’d danced in vivid detail, stripping away the immense control she spent so much energy on all the time. 

“Every bad day is so much harder,” she said, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.  “And every good day feels wrong, because you’re not there.  And you should be.”  She sniffed and brought her other hand up to swipe at her wet cheeks.  “I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time, John.  I’m trying, I am, but I just—“

She stopped, gasping for breath and wrapping her arms around her legs as she brought them up to her chest, crying in earnest.

“I just wish I didn’t feel so lost,” she said.  “I try to be okay, for Ian, I do.  But no matter how much time goes by, I still feel so…alone, and…and it wasn’t supposed to be like this.  You weren’t supposed to leave.”

She choked on another sob, then let her forehead rest on her knees as she took a deep breath, willing her tears to stop.  After another minute, she got to her feet, back in control.  She turned back to the headstone, pressing a kiss to fingers, then her fingers to the top of the stone.

“I love you, John,” she whispered, then turned quickly, crossing her arms tightly and walking away swiftly before she could break down again.  It never solved anything, and, as much as she wished someone could just…take some of her mess and drop a solution in her lap, that wasn’t going to happen.

She was on her own.

oOoOo

Sunday afternoon, Ian was playing in his room when Rose called James.

“Hello?” he answered uncertainly.

“Hi!” she said exuberantly, then winced at her tendency to overcompensate when she was uncomfortable.  “Um.  Hi.  It’s Rose.  Rose Smith.”

“Right!” he said.  “Hello, Rose Smith.  I’m guessing Jack gave you my number…I’m sorry.  I was already on my way out on Thursday, and didn’t realize until I’d gotten home that I didn’t actually do any of the things that I really should have thought about doing as an employee, such as give you my _phone number_ or even ask for the address of where I’m supposed to be on Monday morning…though I suppose I could have asked Jack too.  Well, at least one of us was thinking rationally, cheers.”

“…Right,” she said after a moment, not sure how else to respond.  “Um, about that…I mean, I just…I don’t actually know you at all.  So I don’t know—“

“How’d you meet Saunders?” he interrupted.

“Uh…he was recommended by an agency,” she said, blinking.

“Okay, first of all, whoever runs that agency needs to re-evaluate the criteria they use to recommend individuals,” he said, sounding annoyed.  “Second of all, at least you know Jack, which is…well, alright, questionable, admittedly,” he added, and she smiled despite herself.  “ _But_ he clearly cares about you and Ian, and he really is a good person, so you can’t honestly believe that he’d suggest someone he thought would be harmful.  And certainly not anywhere near as harmful as _Saunders_.”

“He didn’t seem that bad at the interview,” Rose said defensively.  She already felt guilty about subjecting Ian to Saunders; she definitely wasn’t going to let a virtual stranger add on to that.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said.  “Although I have a hard time believing that he didn’t at least seem like he had a stick up his arse and an infinite lemon in his mouth.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be a good teacher,” she protested, even while a tiny voice in her head cheered at James’ description.

“Again, I’m not arguing with you,” he said.  “I’m not saying that you didn’t make the best decision based on the given information.  What I _am_ saying is that the information you have about _me_ isn’t all that less substantial, and I have a better recommendation, and, most importantly, I actually like your son.  And you, at least what I’ve seen.  But, for the record, you can ask me whatever you want.  Furthermore…Rose, all I’m doing is giving you a chance to actually be discerning about who you hire to tutor Ian later, and make sure whoever you choose is actually a decent person.  There’s no long standing contract here.  If you don’t like me, or don’t like what I do with Ian, I’m not going to take offense to you telling me so, or even telling me to move on.  He’s your son…the control is always yours.”

“Who _are_ you?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“James Noble,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  “Human being, and not a prick.  Well, usually.  I’m fairly sure I have my moments.  I’m sure my sister could fill you in on those, if you’re curious.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with a smirk, then sighed.  “You’re just going to keep talking until I stop protesting, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” he said easily.  “Rose, Saunders was an ass.  And you deserve a break after dealing with him for…how long was he around, anyway?”

“Oh…eight months?” she said, thinking back.

“Way too long,” he said.  “That had to be a considerable amount of stress, and his departure was…disruptive.  For both of you.  Ian’s self-esteem has to have taken a heavy shot, despite his apparent lack of fear of…well, anything, really.  And before you say anything,” he went on, and her mouth clicked shut in surprise, “let me repeat that I don’t think that was your fault, and neither should you.  Let yourself off the hook, and accept that someone is willing to help you.”

“You don’t even know me,” she said, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

“I don’t need to,” James said.  “I know that you had an unfortunate situation that had a bad ending, and that you would have had to scramble to fix it, which would have led to a good chance of things again being unsuccessful, and my being around can help that.  That’s all I need to know.”

“Yeah, I stumbled through alright for several years without you,” Rose snapped.

“No…that’s not—oh blimey,” he sighed.  “I have this tick, where I start talking, and I’m just unintentionally rude because my mouth just…goes on without any interference from my brain.  Point is, that’s not at all what I meant.  Rose, you’ve clearly done an amazing job with Ian.  Like I said, all my presence means is that you have more time to consider your options as far as tutors go, and actually get some idea of who they are before you hire them.  That’s all.”

Rose raised a hand to nibble on her nail, trying to figure out what to say.  James seemed genuine, but she still didn’t understand why anyone would agree to help without actually having any obligation to do so.

“How do you know Jack?” asked Rose suddenly.

“I met him…oh…fifteen years ago?” James replied promptly.  “I…did some work with Torchwood, not too long after he started there.  Actually, I met your husband a couple of times.”

“What?” she asked, stunned.

“Mhm,” he said.  “Just sort of in passing, when he came to talk to Jack.  He was a good man, though.  _Ridiculously_ smart, and really, coming from me, that’s saying something.”

“Yeah, Jack said something about that,” she said, skirting away from the subject of John.  It was too raw of a wound at the moment.  “Certified genius, right?”

“Oh yes,” he said.  “However, don’t take it to mean I actually know what I’m doing…you know, ever.  Being a genius doesn’t actually _mean_ anything.  It’s the difference between knowing exactly how a microwave works, and actually being able to take food out before it’s burnt.”

“Did you just manage egotism and self-deprecation simultaneously?” she asked with a smile.

“One of my many talents,” said James, and she couldn’t help letting out a laugh.  “And it got you to laugh, so definitely worthwhile.  So are we good?”

“I suppose,” she said with a sigh.  “And like you said, it’s only temporary anyway.”

“Right,” he said.  “So relax.  Where actually is Ian academically?”

Rose let out another heavy sigh.  That had been another area of contention with Saunders…Ian picked up concepts with startling ease, but the tutor seemed intent on holding him back, leaving her frustrated and her son bored.

“Rose?” James asked after a minute of silence.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” she admitted in an irritated tone.  “I’m certain he’s ahead of where Saunders had him, even though that was supposedly advanced.  So what he _was_ doing and what he _can_ do, I think, are two totally different things, but I don’t even know where to start…figuring out what he should be doing, which is why I hired a bloody tutor in the first place!”

James was quiet for a moment, and Rose immediately felt bad about her outburst.  A temporary tutor didn’t need to hear about all that, but it had been a stressful few days, and he was surprisingly easy to talk to.

“I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be,” he interrupted.  “Just trying to figure out the best way to solve the problem.  Um…listen, Rose, I’m going to let you go, but text me your address so I know where I’m going tomorrow.  And don’t worry…I know it’s frustrating, but all of this is fixable.  Breathe, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

He hung up, and she stared at the phone for a minute, wondering exactly how the conversation had spun so completely out of her control.  She’d gotten his number for the sole purpose of telling him not to bother, and now he was apparently trying to figure out how to solve _her_ problems.

She’d take it, she decided, but relaxing wasn’t going to be an option.  She’d interview new people every day if she had to…if James was willing to help, she could at least do the work necessary to make sure that she and Ian were out of his hair as soon as possible.


	5. First Day

At seven thirty, Monday morning, James was bouncing on the balls of his feet outside Rose’s flat after giving the door a “shave and a haircut” knock.

“You’re early,” she said as she opened the door, looking at him in confusion.

“Yes, I am,” he said.  “But...I brought doughnuts.”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but he simply gave her a smile and held up the bag in his right hand.

“Yeah, alright then,” she said after a moment, opening the door wide for him.  “God, I don’t know which of you is more excited.”

“Hard to tell,” he admitted, following her further into the flat.

“James!” Ian cried happily, sliding off his chair and running to him, wrapping his arms around James’ knees.  James immediately put the doughnuts and various items under his other arm on the table, then reached down and swung the boy up onto his hip.

“You’re not gonna make me learn about trees, are you?” Ian asked, anxiety all over his little face.

“Do you know where the tallest tree in the world is?” James asked.

“Redwood National Forest in America,” Ian said promptly, and James’ eyebrows shot up.  “It’s three hundred and seventy-nine feet tall and it’s called Hyperion, ‘cause that was a giant in Greece.”

James turned his head when he heard Rose chuckle, and saw her smiling at them over a mug of tea she was holding in both hands as she leaned against the door to the kitchen.

“We went through a world records phase just after he learned to read,” she explained, looking at Ian fondly.

“When was that?” asked James.

“Just before his fourth birthday,” she replied.  “So he can pretty much tell you the biggest or smallest or oldest or weirdest anything at this point.”

“Ian Smith,” he said, turning back to the boy.  “You are brilliant.”

“Mister Saunders says I’m a know-it-all,” Ian said, ducking his head self-consciously.

“Mister Saunders was wrong,” James said, putting a finger under the boy’s chin and lifting his face.  “And he’s gone.  I’m here, and I say you’re brilliant, alright?”

“Alright,” Ian said, smiling up at him, then looked over at the table and zeroed in on the bag.  “Did you bring doughnuts?”

“It's a distinct possibility," James said, beaming at him.

"Welcome to the world of a six year old's priorities," Rose said with a laugh as James set the wriggling boy on his feet so that he could investigate the doughnuts.  "You want a coffee?"

"That'd be brilliant, thanks," James said, shrugging out of his jacket turning back to the table, where Ian was already well into cakey goodness, and examining the other things James had left on the table.

"What's this?" he asked, poking at a box as James draped his jacket on the back of a chair.

" _That_ is for you," James replied, picking up the box and opening it.  "It's an iPad...it's going to help a lot with lessons."

He looked up when he heard a bang as Rose set down the mugs forcefully, coffee sloshing over the top and onto the table.

"Can I talk to you?" she said through gritted teeth.

"Um...Yeah," he said, confused.  He set the tablet and the box back down on the table before she grabbed his arm, dragging him into the kitchen.  She let him go to slam the door and the pass through shut before turning back to him with a glare.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed.

"What?" asked James, genuinely baffled by her reaction.

"I can't pay for that," she explained.

"It's already paid for," he said with a frown.

"Well I can't pay you back for it," she said.

"You don't have to," he said with a shrug.

“That’s at least two weeks of pay for you, right there,” she said, not listening.

“Rose, really, it’s not a problem,” he tried again.

"We're not some charity case," she snapped.  "Maybe I can't give him iPads, but that doesn't mean that he needs someone to swoop in and--"

"Rose, no," James interrupted.

"What happens when you leave?" she demanded, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"It's not like I'm going to take it with me," he said, exasperated.

"You didn't even talk to me about it!" she ground out.  "So much for 'the control is always yours'!"

"Rose," he said gently, trying to diffuse the situation.  "I'm sorry if I offended you in some way, honestly. That wasn't my intention.”

“Then what _exactly_ was your intention?” she asked, still glaring.

“I told you, I wanted the best solution for the problem,” James replied calmly.  “I have that tablet loaded with some phenomenal educational tools, both for day to day lessons and to gauge where Ian is in his education.  That was my only motive, I swear...but I’ll take it back if you want me to.  I’ll find some other way.”

Rose bit her lip and looked back at the door for a moment before turning back to James, looking torn.  He tried his best to look open and genuine to keep her from yelling at him again.

“You really think this is the best solution?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” he said firmly.

Rose studied him for a moment, then let out a harsh breath.  “Alright...if you really think it’s the best for his education.  But,” she added fiercely, pointing a finger at him, “no more insane moves like that without talking to me first, understand?”

“You have my word,” he promised.

“Yeah, alright,” she said slowly, watching him suspiciously.  She sighed and rolled her eyes, turning and grabbing a towel before moving toward the other room.  She paused with her hand still on the door, her face thoughtful as she swivelled back to face him.  “Why would you spend that much money on a kid you’re going to be around for two weeks?”

“Why not?” he asked with a shrug.

“You are a very strange man,” she commented.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that,” he said with a smile.

She looked at him for another second, then shook her head before opening the door and returning to Ian, picking up her coffee on the way.

James stood still for a moment, letting out a breath in a whoosh and trying to push out of his mind the observation that, if anything, Rose was actually prettier when she was angry.  But it didn’t take a genius to realize that she was so completely out of bounds that she might as well be in another universe.

Ian, however, was another story.

“Alright, Ian m’boy,” he said, walking back out into the dining area and snagging a doughnut before picking up the tablet.  “Let’s look at what we’ve got here.”

oOoOo

Rose called Jack as soon as she got to work.

"He bought Ian an iPad," she said as soon as he answered the phone.

"Good morning to you too," Jack replied sarcastically.  "This is James we're talking about? I thought you were going to tell him that he couldn't tutor Ian after all."

"Yeah...that didn't go...completely as planned," she admitted slowly.  "But then he came over this morning with a bloody IPad."

"Did he give a reason?" Jack asked.  "Or is he just taking Ian down the treacherous road to Temple Run addiction?"

"Jack!"

"No, then?" Jack asked innocently, and Rose rolled her eyes, wishing he was there to smack.

"He said it will help him figure out where Ian is academically," Rose told him.  "And help with lessons."

"So, basically he's doing exactly what you hired him to do," Jack said slowly.

"Well...yeah, if you look at it like that," she said, picking up a pen and doodling on a scrap of paper for a moment.  "But why would he do that? That's so much money."

"Because he can," Jack said simply.  "You've got to understand, that's just how his mind works. He sees a problem, and he finds the best solution, and doesn't register the possible consequences, good or bad.  You know how he convinced the British government to check their internet security?  He hacked into their servers, locked up all their data, and left his address and phone number.  Nearly got arrested and thrown away for years, except he had encryption software waiting for them that would take a supercomputer three days to hack, and automatically changed the password every twenty-four hours.”

"The difference between a microwave and burnt food," she muttered, shifting the pen in her fingers to massage her temple.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said, twirling the pen in her hand distractedly.  “When was that? The...hacking thing?”

“He was nineteen,” Jack said with a laugh.  “That’s how we met...they had him work with Torchwood to produce the software and implement it, because the company was basically unknown at the time.  James is pretty much the reason it exists the way it does today, since he owns the patents on almost everything we use, and has a share of financial rights to a lot of the things we produce.”

“What, seriously?” Rose asked, stunned.

“Yep,” Jack said.  “That’s part of the reason the cost of the iPad didn’t really occur to him.  Money hasn’t been a real concern for him...ever, really.”

“He drives a car that’s at least ten years old,” Rose said, frowning in confusion.  “And he teaches in other countries...you said yourself he’s done everything from landscaping to bartending.”

“That’s just so he has something to do,” Jack said.  “He has money, but he has this weird relationship with it...it’s there when he wants it, but he just sort of ignores it otherwise.”

“Must be nice,” Rose said quietly, staring into the middle distance.

“You’re telling me,” Jack said with a snort.  “On the plus side...you have an assurance that he’s helping with Ian because he really wants to, not because he’s trying to make ends meet.”

“So, wait, let me see if I’ve got this right,” she said slowly.  “I have a rich genius spending exorbitant amounts of money to tutor my six year old son for two weeks simply because he has nothing better to do at the moment?”

“Well...I do want to stress that he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to,” Jack said.  “But basically...yeah.”

“Who _is_ this guy?” she burst out.

“One of a kind,” Jack said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  “But he’s one of my best friends, and he’s a good person.  So relax and learn to cope with the fact that a decent person wants to help you simply because he can.”

“That’s pretty much what he said too,” she said, nibbling on a nail.  “Does he usually end up in situations that he has to talk himself out of?”

“All the time,” Jack said, sounding slightly exasperated.  “But, you should know, he’s also wildly successful at it.  So argue at your own risk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with a sigh before saying her goodbyes and turning her attention reluctantly to her workday.

oOoOo

Rose called James at lunch, and both he and Ian had sounded distracted and eager to get off the phone and finish their cheese toasties.  When she returned to her flat after work, she was certain that she would find one of two things had happened: either James would be completely exhausted and frustrated after chasing after an energetic and curious six year old all day…or her living room would be a blanket fort and they’d have nothing to show for a day that was supposed to consist of lessons.

“Mummy!” Ian cried the moment she walked in the door, running to hug her.  She bent down and picked him up in a bear hug, and his little arms and legs clamped around her excitedly.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked, clasping her hands behind him as he leaned back.

“Yes!” he said breathlessly.  “I had to do math this morning, a bunch of it, but it was okay because it was games with numbers and shapes and times and stuff and James says I’m really good at it because even though I only did plusing and minusing with Mister Saunders, James told me how to count by numbers an’ I did multiple cayshuns, ‘cause it’s just counting by numbers, an’ we talked about money an’ uh...the thing with the point…”

“Decimals,” James said, and Rose looked past Ian to see the new tutor sitting at the table, scribbling on a pad of paper.  

“Yeah, those,” Ian said dismissively.  “An’ then we talked about Hyperion--the giant, not the tree--an’ his brothers and sisters that’re called the Titans an’ how their kids are called the Olympians an’ they’re the gods of Greece an’ they went to war with their moms and dads.  Mummy, do you think James knows everything?”

“I really don’t know,” she said, slightly winded as she looked at James, who looked up then with a smile.

“‘Cause I think he does,” Ian went on.  “‘Cause we talked about trees too, except it wasn’t boring, cause did you know that veins in leaves are sorta like the veins in us?  And trees don’t die every year, they go dormant, which is like sleeping for trees, like bears when they hypernate.”

“Hybernate,” James said, standing and shrugging into his jacket.

“That,” Ian said, nodding.  “And James said tomorrow we can read some stories about Zeus and the other gods of Greece, but we’ve got to do more math because I’m still too good at it.”

“Well, then,” she said, not totally sure how else to respond.  “Um, why don’t you go play in your room for a little while so I can talk to James, and then I’ll sort out dinner, alright?”

“Kay,” Ian said, wriggling out of her grasp and sliding to the floor.  He ran over to James, hugging the tall man around his knees.  “Bye James.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, little man,” James said, tousling Ian’s hair before the boy darted into his room.  The sound of cars quickly replaced his happy babble, and James looked at Rose with a smile.  She stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open a little, and the smile faded uncertainly. "Rose?"

"Yeah," she said, shaking herself. "I just...thank you."

"For what?" he asked, looking puzzled.

“It's just...been a while since he was that excited about learning," she explained, gesturing toward Ian's open door. "So...thank you."

"Well...it was only the first day," he said, tapping his pass against his leg. "I'm still trying to figure out where he is with math and reading comprehension, because he blew through everything I threw at him today.  And then there’s writing and spelling...although he does seem to have taken after his dad where history’s concerned.  Point is...there’s still probably going to be days he’s acutely annoyed at me.”

“Still,” she said with a small smile as he walked toward her to leave.  “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, smiling warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  He moved to walk past her to the door, then paused, stepping back so that he was in front of her again.  “Does this mean I’m forgiven for the iPad?”

“Oh...I suppose,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Brilliant,” James replied, beaming at her.  He reached forward and squeezed her arm gently.  “I’ll see you tomorrow...have a good night, Rose.”

“You too,” she said, turning as he walked to the door, and watching as he left, closing the door gently behind him.  She stood thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to Ian’s door, leaning on the frame.  “Alright, Schrunchkin...what do you want for dinner?”

“James says the Olympians eat ambrosia,” Ian said, looking up at her.

“Well...last I checked, we were fresh out,” she said slowly.  “So...how about cheesy noodles?”

“Yeah!” he said happily, and she smiled before turning away and heading for the kitchen.

All in all, she realized, not a bad first day.

 


	6. Failures by Design

"Evening, little brother."

James looked up from the book he was reading at the kitchen table as his sister sat down.

"Evening," he said pleasantly, then frowned, glancing at his watch. "I thought you had a date."

"Oh, I did," she replied. "Just got home."

James arched an eyebrow, casting another pointed glance at his watch, proudly showing it to be only nine thirty.

"Oi," Donna said with frown. "We went to dinner and a film, and then he brought me home at a respectful hour because he's a gentleman."

"Right," James said slowly, picking up the glass of water on the table. "And this was your...what...fourth date with the gentleman?"

"Fifth," Donna admitted in a slightly annoyed tone, and James hid a grin behind his glass.

"And how's that working out for you?" he asked.

"If he doesn't kiss me soon, I'm pushing him up against the nearest wall and doing it myself," she replied, and James burst out laughing.  Donna smiled for a moment, then sighed.  “Lee’s just shy, is all.  And he really is sweet...and he cares about me.”

“That’s what matters,” James said, setting down his glass.  “After all that business with Lance--”

“Oh, don’t even bring up that...philanderer,” Donna spat.  “He’s not even worthy of a mention.  Him or his _Lady Racnoss_ ,” she added with a sneer.

“Alright,” James said, happy to leave the subject of his sister’s ex-fiance alone.  “I’m just glad to see you treated right this time...if at a maddeningly slow pace.”

“Yeah,” she said, toying with the table cloth.  “So what about you?  How’s the tutoring going with the boy genius?”

“Really well,” said James, leaning forward on his forearms and clasping his hands around his elbows.  “Ian really is brilliant.  I’m going to start him on some fourth year maths next week, because he’s still flying through the concepts.  His reading comprehension is ridiculous, partially because he’s already been reading for a couple of years, but mainly because Rose has been working with him since he first started, asking him about what he was reading and what he thought about it…”  He paused, remembering the shy, tongue-touched smile she’d given when he’d told her how wonderful it was that she’d been teaching him that all along.  He looked back at Donna, whose eyes had narrowed a little, then cleared his throat and shook himself before continuing.  “His spelling is a little behind his reading level, and he's a little frustrated, but he's still light years ahead of other kids his age. On the whole, he's doing really well, and Rose is thrilled because he's interested again."

"You're really into this whole thing, aren't you?" Donna asked, her head tilting to the side.

"Well...Ian makes it easy to enjoy," he said slowly. "I doubt that's true in all cases."

"And I'm sure having a pretty mum isn't hurting his cause," Donna remarked.

"Donna," he said in a warning tone, leaning back in his chair.

"What?" she asked innocently. "Don't tell me that didn't play a part in your decision to tutor some kid you had just met."

"I told you," he said. "That was Jack."

"Right," Donna said with a smile. "And you fought so hard against it."

"No, it wasn't--"

"So she's not pretty?"

"No," he said quickly, and Donna's eyebrows jumped. "No, I mean, yes she's pretty. Very pretty. Gorgeous, in fact. But it doesn't matter. She’s a widow...and a _mum_.  Nothing is going to happen." He sighed and rolled his eyes when his sister continued to look skeptical. "Donna, I'm a temporary tutor for her son, nothing more. She's got interviews lined up for next week. Presumably, she'll pick one of them, and then I'll be gone."

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it," he said firmly.

"Oh, well, if it isn't my two overachievers," their mother, Sylvia, said as she entered the room, effectively cutting off whatever further argument Donna had in mind. The siblings shared a look and rolled their eyes before James shifted in his chair.

"You know, Mum," he said. "I know I don't often have the opportunity to say this, but at the moment, Donna and I both have jobs."

"Oh yes," Sylvia said acidly, arching an eyebrow as she poured a glass of water. "The temp and the tutor. You do make a mother proud."

"I have to wonder sometimes what would have made you proud," Donna muttered as James let out an annoyed huff.

"Oh, it's alright for you, Donna," Sylvia said, leaning on the counter and gesturing with her glass. "Never really expected much from you."

"Well, that's a load off my mind," Donna said with an eyeroll, and James smirked.

"Your brother, on the other hand," she said, and it was James' turn to roll his eyes. He'd heard this routine too many times to show much patience. "I saw that. All those things you did for bloody Torchwood, all that money, you could've done anything. You could've been a doctor, or a barrister, or a businessman. You could've been prime minister. But no...you had to go _traveling_. So now what am I stuck with? A son who wasted his potential, and a daughter who never had any."

With that, she downed the last swig of water in her glass, set the glass in the sink, and walked out of room again.

"You know," Donna commented. "Sometimes I wonder why you left, why you don't visit more often...and then I talk to Mum."

James shook his head in disbelief.  “She really is astonishing,” he said, then picked up his water glass, peering at it.  “I’m gonna need something stronger than this,” he said decisively, rising smoothly and heading for the liquor cabinet.

“Better make that two,” Donna sighed, slipping out of her jacket finally and settling in. "She's got a point, you know."

"Oh, don't you start," said James, pulling out a bottle of brandy and two tumblers.

"No, but is this really what you're gonna do for the rest of your life?" she asked. "Travel?"

"Maybe, yeah," he said, returning to the table.

"Alone?" she asked, watching as he poured the drinks.

James glanced at her. "The other option didn't work very well, if you recall."

"Oh, that was years ago," she said dismissively as he pushed a drink toward her.

"Two years!" he protested. "Two. That's barely plural."

"But don't you ever get lonely?" she asked.

"How could I?" he asked with snort. "What with my big sister calling to check up on me all the time?"

"I just want to you to be happy," Donna said.

"I know," said James, his features softening. "But I am, for the most part. Honestly."

"I'd also like to see you more," Donna went on with a soft smile.

"Yes, but then how would I disappoint Mum?" he asked with mock horror.

"Suppose there is that," she laughed.

"To being failures by design," James said, raising his glass. She chuckled again before clinking her glass against his, and they both proceeded to down large gulps of brandy.

"Oh ho, what's this?" their grandad, Wilf, asked as he tramped through the back door. "What're we toasting?"

“Our mutual lack of possibilities in life,” Donna said.

“Oh, been talking to your mother, then?” he asked, dropping his hat and gloves on the table before sinking into a chair.  “Jamie, get your grandad a glass.”

“You were literally _just_ standing,” James said.

“Yeah, but I’m old, and you’re kind,” Wilf said happily.

James smiled and shook his head as he rose to get another tumbler, asking over his shoulder, “Find anything interesting out there?”

“I’ve got Jupiter looking gorgeous all night,” Wilf replied, shrugging out of his coat.  “Sitting there right between the Twins like a ball to play with.  Might go back out and see Mars ‘round midnight.”

“Sounds like fun,” James said, returning to his seat and pouring Wilf a drink.

“Yeah, you know, if you’re still around next month, Jupiter’s gonna move out of opposition,” Wilf said, taking a sip.  “We’ll be able to see the red spot.”

“Maybe next time, Grandad,” James said carefully.

“Yeah, alright,” Wilf said, piercing James with a look for a moment that made the younger man squirm uncomfortably, hiding it with another long drink of brandy.  “Still planning on leaving us soon, then?  Next week?”

“As of right now, yeah,” James said, finishing his drink in a large swallow and reaching for the bottle again.  This was just not a night for sobriety, apparently.

Wilf apparently caught the shift in his mood, turning to Donna instead.  “How was the date?”

“Short,” Donna said with a sigh, holding out her own glass for James to refill.

“Went badly?” Wilf asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head a little.  “Not really.  Just...dunno, wish sometimes he wasn’t _quite_ such a gentleman.”

“You know, before I married your Gran, I always had her home at a respectable time,” Wilf said slowly.

“Well, I think things have changed a bit since your time,” Donna said carefully, and James hid a grin behind his glass.

“No, they haven’t,” Wilf said as he took another sip.  “We were just better at managing our time.”

“Grandad!” Donna burst out with a shocked laugh, while James choked on his brandy.

“Your gran was a beautiful woman,” their grandfather went on stoically as James continued to laugh and sputter.

“I think that’s my cue,” Donna said, downing the last of her drink and slamming the tumbler back down on the table.  “I take my leave of you, fair gentlemen.”

“Night, Donna,” James said, finally getting his breath back.

“Night, Jamie,” she said as she stood and picked up her jacket.  “Night, Grandad,”

“G’night, love,” he said as she bent and kissed his cheek before exiting the room.

The two men were quiet for a moment after she left, sipping at their brandies.  James was feeling pleasantly warm after another drink, and was once more reaching for the bottle when his grandfather spoke again.

“You remember what I said to you, Jamie?” Wilf asked.  “When you first left?”

James paused and glanced at Wilf, then looked back down as he poured.  “You said I should go out and find what I was looking for, no matter what anyone said...and bring back a piece of the world for you.”

“And after all these years,” said Wilf softly, “you still haven’t found it?”

“Good lord,” James said, setting the bottle down and running a hand through his hair.  “Is there something in the water tonight?  A memo I missed?  I’d really like to know what’s compelling everyone to tell me how bad my life is...or how it’s bad for other people...or whatever knowledge you’re trying to impart to me here.”

“It’s not that, James,” Wilf said.  “You know better than that.  Your sister and I have always been behind you, and your Dad--”

“Dad’s gone,” James said shortly, taking a deep drink to drown old resentments.  “And I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We just miss you, son,” said Wilf quietly, and James felt a pang of guilt for snapping at him.

“Not everyone,” James said, then scrubbed a hand down his face with a sigh.  “Not yet, Grandad.  I haven’t found it yet.  You’ll be the first to know when I do.”

Wilf nodded, his blue eyes concerned.  “Just...make sure you don’t get too busy running that you miss it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” James said with a nod.

They sat together for a little longer, James further depleting the brandy supply while he told Wilf more about Ian and Rose, and Wilf caught James up on some of the local gossip.  Eventually, Wilf wandered back to the hill to see Mars and James was left alone again.

It hadn’t been so bad during the week, what with tutoring Ian to distract him and keep him from actually being around his family too much.  He loved them, all of them, but days like this, both their concern and disapproval grew stifling and he got twitchy, anxious to flee to the next adventure.  At least he only had another week--plus the weekend, because there was no way Grandad and Donna would let him go that quick--but then he’d be gone, and not a moment too soon.


	7. Interview Process

“God, you just can’t help yourself, can you?” Rose huffed, exasperated.  “Last week it was an iPad, this week--”

“It’s a booster seat, Rose,” James said calmly.  “It’s not like I bought your son a gold plated iPhone.”

“Why would you even _do_ that?” she demanded.

“Because you take the bus, but it would waste half our day if I did that, and I can’t call Jack every time I want to take Ian somewhere,” he said with a shrug.

“What are you going to do with it when you leave?” she asked, chewing on a nail.

“I thought I might start smuggling six year olds from Portugal,” he said with a straight face.  “Or...I could leave it with you, in case you need it for something.  Like a normal person.”

“I don’t even have a car,” she protested, ignoring the attempt to lighten the situation.

“Your next tutor might,” he said.

“They might have their own seat,” she countered, and he rolled his eyes, taking a step back from her.

“So sell it, I don’t care,” he said, now as irritated as her as he ran a hand through his hair.  “It’s a booster seat, so I can take him to the museum and the aquarium.  That’s it.  That’s all.  You paid me last week, it went to something that would help with Ian’s education by providing transportation.  Why is that a bad thing?”

“I--”  She paused, biting her lip as she tried to find a way around this logic.  James stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, watching her with an arched brow.  She huffed out a breath, blowing her bangs out of her face and he fought a smile.

“James, are we going to the museum today?” Ian called from the dining area.

James raised his eyebrows at Rose, and she looked at him for a moment before sighing and giving a nod.

“Yes, we are,” James said with a grin while Rose rolled her eyes.  “Rose,” he continued in a softer voice.

“Yeah,” she said, still slightly annoyed and not quite meeting his gaze.  He reached forward, touching her arm and squeezing gently so she’d look up at him.

“You’re not needy, and it’s still not charity,” he said quietly.  “It’s just a booster seat.  Alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” she said after a moment.

“Admittedly, it did come equipped with a rocket launcher and ejector seat,” he said, looking up thoughtfully.  “But I figured that might be a _bit_ much, even for someone as advanced as Ian.”

She smiled despite herself at this outrageous lie, shaking her head when he grinned.  “You’re impossible.”

“Nah,” he said, still beaming at her.  “Just a bit unlikely.”

oOoOo

“Oh, I think teaching a child about self-worth is very important,” said Miss Bliss Silvermoon, a potential tutor, who was seated across from Rose at her desk.

“Oh, well that’s wonderful,” Rose said, reserving judgement on the name.  “We’ve had some issues with that in the past.”

“The man will always try to bring you down,” the woman said, her eyes wide as she shook her head.

“Right,” Rose said, her own eyes narrowing a little before she shook herself and looked down at her notes.  “So, um, I was just wondering what training you have in general curriculum...maths, science, things like that?”

“Oh, I don’t worry about things like that,” Miss Silvermoon said.  “That’s all products of consumerist society.  What we need is love, and the creative works of love.  That’s what will make for a brighter future for everyone.”

Rose stared at her blankly for a moment.  “Right,” she said again finally.  “Well...I’ll...um...be in touch.”

“Sounds groovy,” Miss Silvermoon said with a bright smile before standing and swaying out the door.

Rose sat still for a moment, then carefully picked up the woman’s resume and dropped it in the bin.

oOoOo

“Thanks for coming Mr…”

“Butkis,” the red faced man barked, and Rose swallowed back a laugh.  “Now, I think you should know, Ms Smith, that I asked the agency for information before I came here.”

“I...right, okay,” she said, pausing for a brief instant before sitting down.  “Is there...something you’d like to discuss?”

“Now I know it’s probably not the lad’s fault, being raised by a girl alone,” he said.  “But I don’t tolerate any whining or nancy-boy behavior.”

“I--I’m sorry?”

“I believe if you spare the rod, you’ll spoil the child,” he went on.  “That goes for my own kids, and the kids I teach.  So you should be aware that your son will have to get used to corporal punishment if he can’t keep up.”

Rose blinked.  “I believe the agency is also aware that Ian’s very advanced for his age?”

“And that’s great,” Butkis said.  “But what you can learn from books won’t mean anything at all if that’s all you know.  Boy needs to learn to be a man.”

“And you could teach him that, I suppose?” Rose asked, her voice getting chilly.

“Yes, ma’am, I could,” Butkis said, apparently not noticing the drop in temperature.  “Your boy won’t grow up being a geek, he’ll grow up to be a man.”

Rose’s thoughts moved unbidden to the tall, lanky geek currently in her apartment, who didn’t seem to have any trouble exuding male confidence.

“I’m not sure the two are mutually exclusive,” she said coolly.  “I’ll be in touch.”

As soon as the man left, she crumpled up her notes, tossing them forcefully into the bin.

oOoOo

James looked up in surprise from where he was leaning over Ian when Rose walked in on Friday afternoon. She was home at least an hour early.

"Mummy!" Ian cried happily, scooting off his chair to run and hug her.

"Hey Schrunckin," she said in a tired voice, and James studied her more closely, noting the slight tightness of her smile and faint lines of stress in her features.

"Rough week?" he asked mildly.

"It's fine," she said. "Any chance the kettle's hot?"

"Can be, if you give me a minute," he replied, already moving toward the kitchen. She followed him after a quiet word to Ian to finish what he'd been working on, and he turned to her as he filled the kettle. "So, did you settle on someone?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine," she said as she leaned against the counter.

Something about the way she said it, and the way she wouldn't look at him, made him ask, "Who?"

"Sorry?" she asked, picking at the cuff of her shirt.

"Who did you pick?" he clarified as he set the kettle on the stove.

"Doesn't really matter," she said, and he quirked an eyebrow up. "For you, I mean. You'll be gone already."

"Rose," he said quietly, tilting his head as he watched her get visibly more tense. "Did you pick someone?"

She watched him warily, reminding him of a scared rabbit for a moment, before she sagged against the counter.

“I couldn’t,” she said in a low voice.  “I can’t have something else like Saunders, I can’t do that to him, and they were all bad.  There was a hippy who didn’t care about math and science, and someone who wanted to use _corporal punishment_ , and then the others that just...I just…I just can’t...”  She trailed off, sounding near tears.

“Okay,” he murmured, stepping towards her and putting an arm around her shoulders gingerly, not wanting to spook her.  “Breathe, relax.  Listen...no one wants another Saunders,” he said slowly, thinking hard.  He was supposed to leave on Sunday…but not for anything that couldn’t wait another week.  “Don’t push yourself to pick someone you don’t like because you have a deadline breathing down your neck.  That wasn’t the point of me being here at all.  Do some more interviews next week--better yet, do them here, so you can see how the potential tutors interact with Ian too--then we’ll talk next Friday.”

Rose had gone still while he’d talked, and now slowly turned to face him as his arm dropped from her shoulders, her eyes wide.  “You’ll stay?  You’ll stay another week?”

“I’ll stay another week,” he said with a small, crooked smile.

“Thank you,” she burst out, throwing her arms around his neck.  He laughed in surprise and returned the hug, but the minute his arms were around her, she stiffened and stepped away.  “Sorry, I just--”

“I don’t mind,” he said easily.  “I like hugs.  Ian’s a good one for hugs...must have gotten it from you.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “Not likely.  John would hug anyone.”

“Nah,” he said.  “Just makes me more sure that he got it from you.  ‘Cause you might not hug everyone all the time...but that just means you mean it when you do.”

 “Yeah?” she asked shyly, tongue poking out just a bit from her smile.

“Yes,” he replied firmly, dragging his eyes back up to hers.

“Alright,” she said with a laugh.  “But...really, thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Ms Smith,” he said.

 

oOoOo

"You should know, Ms Smith, that I have my own curriculum for science."

"Oh?" Rose asked the plump middle aged woman sitting across from her with an arched eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate, Miss Sage?"

"Of course," she replied cheerily, before leaning forward and speaking in a hushed tone. "Is Ian saved?"

Rose blinked. "Saved?"

"Yes, my dear. Saved." Miss Sage tried to convey her meaning with a tilt of her head and widening her eyes. Rose thought she looked like a bemused owl.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Rose shook her head, glancing up to where James stood behind the woman, his arms crossed and an odd expression on his face, a mix of amusement and irritation.

"I'm talking about God, sweet child," the older woman tutted. "I know he's young, but it's never too soon to talk about our Lord and Savior."

Rose bristled in her seat, gripping her pen tightly. "I don't see how this has anything to do with Ian's education."

"Oh sweetheart," Miss Sage said between forced giggles. "It won't do me any good to teach him the _proper_ story of creation and debunk those other false sciences, if the child doesn't know about the power of Christ's love."

James made a sign of the cross behind her, and Rose fought a smile as he jerked his head at the door.

oOoOo

“You have a lot of experience teaching children,” Rose said to the older woman on the sofa, looking over her resume.

“Oh, yes, my dear,” the woman said, and Rose looked up to see her wearing a kindly smile.  “Of all ages too, though I do have a fondness for the younger ones.  Such curious minds.”

“Oh, well that’s good to hear,” Rose said in relief.  “Ian’s very...curious,” she added, ignoring the cough James gave behind her that might have been masking a laugh.  “Ian, why don’t you come say hello to Mrs. Weatherby.”

Ian slid off his chair to stand close to Rose, his eyes wide and nervous.  “Hello, Mrs. Weartherby.”

“My, aren’t you a dashing young man,” Mrs. Weatherby said, leaning on her knees.  “And such amazing eyes.”

“Mummy says they’re my daddy’s eyes,” Ian mumbled.  Rose didn’t miss the way Mrs. Weatherby faltered momentarily after glancing up at James and his chocolate brown eyes.

“James Noble,” he said, coming forward to shake her hand.  “Current--and temporary--tutor.”

“Of course,” she said sweetly, recovering, and Rose let out a small breath of relief.  “Now, Ian, I think you and I could have a lot of fun together.  We’ll play with blocks, and we’ll learn our numbers.  Like two plus two is four, and four plus four is...do you know, Ian?”

“Eight,” he said promptly, but he’d stiffened slightly in a way that spelled doom for Rose.  “And eight squared is sixty-four, and sixty-four squared is...do _you_ know, Mrs. Weatherby?”

“Ian,” Rose said in a low warning before turning back to the startled Mrs. Weatherby.  “He’s...very advanced for his age.”

“Apparently not in manners,” Mrs. Weatherby said, and at that Rose stiffened.  “A child his age should not be able to do exponents.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I haven’t told him that,” James said moving again so he was standing close to Rose and Ian, his hand on her shoulder and looking like a protective knight.  Any irritation Rose may have felt for his intrusion into events fled when she saw the way Ian stood just a little taller.  “I also fail to see how asking his potential tutor the answer to a simple math problem would be construed as bad manners.”

“I can see where he gets it,” Mrs. Weatherby said, gathering up her purse and standing in a huff.  “Ms. Smith, I fear you have your work cut out for you to find a replacement for _him._ ”

“You know, you’re absolutely right,” Rose said, standing and showing Mrs. Weatherby the door.

oOoOo

“Alright,” James said, standing back from the mountain they’d formed on the trestle table he’d set up in the kitchen.  “We’ve put in our hydrogen peroxide and our food coloring.  Time for you to add the yeast.”

Ian stood up on the chair next to the table and tipped the contents of his little cup into the volcano.  “What happens now?”

“Well,” James said, pulling him back a step.  “We activated the yeast with warm water, so now it’s going to act as a catalyst in the oxidation reaction with the hydrogen peroxide.  Remember what a catalyst is?”

“It speeds up a reaction without being part of the reaction,” Ian said confidently.

“Good man,” James said with a grin.

“That’s why I added more yeast,” Ian said, watching the volcano as it started to bubble.

“Sorry?” James said, his gaze snapping to the little boy.

“I added more yeast to my cup,” he said.  “When you were doing the food coloring.  To speed it up more.”

James looked up at the volcano, then down at Ian again for a second before scooping him up and stepping quickly out of the kitchen, just before a muffled explosive noise was followed by a wet pattering.  He stared up at the ceiling for moment, gathering his courage, then put Ian down and peeked around the door at the gloopy carnage inside the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, James," Ian said in a small voice, and James looked down to see him near tears. "It's all my fault."

"Hey, none of that," James said, kneeling in front of him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "We're scientists, right?" He waited for Ian to nod. "Well, that's what scientists do...muck about with things to see what they'll do. But maybe next time let me know before hand, alright?"

"Alright," Ian said, giving him a shaky smile.

“Right,” he said, squeezing Ian's shoulder before standing to survey the damage.  “Next lesson: how best to utilize the cleaning products at our disposal before your mum gets home.”

oOoOo

“So you’re a single mam, yeah?” the man on the sofa, Nathan Fitzgerald, said in an irish lilt.

“I am, yes,” Rose said, and James looked up curiously from where he was reading at the table with Ian.

“Must be tough,” the man said with a nod, glancing around the flat.  “Making ends meet and all that.”

“Um, it can be stressful,” Rose said, tilting her head.  “But I’ve never had a problem with finding a way to pay my tutors.”

Fitzgerald’s eyes cut to James for a moment before returning to Rose, eyeing her.  “Yeah, I’ll bet not.”

James’ eyes narrowed, but if Rose noticed anything amiss, she chose to ignore it.  “So, about your CV...you did remarkably well in school…better than me, but that’s not saying much,” she added with a grin.  “But that’s good, cause Ian’s advanced for his age, and really needs someone who can keep up with him.”

“Ah, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Fitzgerald said, flashing her a grin.  “Bet I could keep up with you too.”

“...I’m sorry?” she asked, the line of her shoulders tightening.

“Just sayin’, if you want to set up an...alternate form of payment,” Fitzgerald said.  “I wouldn’t be opposed.  I’m guessing this bloke here knows what I’m talking about.  Am I right, mate?”

“Absolutely not,” James said, and even Ian looked up at the chill in his voice.  “Why don’t you explain it?”

“Can’t tell me you’re not getting a little bonus from the boss lady here,” Fitzgerald said with a wink.

“I think you need to come with me,” James said in a low voice, getting to his feet.

“I don’t think we were done here,” the irishman said.

“Oh, I think you’ve been done for a while,” James said, towering over him.  “And I think that Ms. Smith here will be looking elsewhere for tutors...specifically ones that she can trust not to blatantly hit on her in front of her six year old son, ones that might actually be able to serve as a role model for something other than a neanderthal way to _score_.”

“Have it your way, mate,” Fitzgerald said, standing and pulling on his coat.  “I was just trying to make life easier for the lady.”

“Try actually treating one like a lady next time,” James suggested as he followed the man to the door.  “And I am _not_ your mate,” he added as closed the door a little more forcefully than necessary and glaring at it for a moment before he turned back to the mother and son inside, and was a little surprised to see Rose giving him a similar look.

“Can I talk to you?” Rose said through gritted teeth, jerking her head at the kitchen.

James took a breath, then gave her a wide grin.  “Yes, of course you can, Ms. Smith.  I’d be delighted.”

He held an arm out for her to precede him, then arched an eyebrow and followed slowly, closing the door behind him.

“That was uncalled for,” she said as soon as he turned to her.

"I disagree," he said calmly, shoving his hands in his pocket. "I think that was not only called for, but necessary. He had no right to talk to you like that."

"I could have handled it," she snapped.

"Never said you couldn't," he said with a shrug. "But you can't honestly think I'd just sit back and let him treat you like that."

"I don't need a knight in shining armor," she said, crossing her arms.

He paused, his frustration at her aggressive self-reliance growing as he turned away and ran a hand through his hair. He turned back to her after a thoughtful moment and asked, "Would you have been this upset if it had been Jack instead of me?"

“That’s...that’s completely different,” she said, waving him off.

“Why?” he asked, stepping toward her.

“Because he’s still gonna be here next week!” Rose shot out, then immediately looked down, flustered.  James felt his frustration drain away as he heard this echoed through every argument he’d had with her--it always came down to the fact that he wouldn’t be staying.

He put a hand under her chin gently and without thinking, raising her face to look at him.  “Rose, just because I’m temporary as a tutor doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to you or Ian, and _that_ doesn’t stop when I leave, either.”  He stroked her jaw with his thumb, then pulled back and coughed awkwardly, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he leaned against the counter.  “Also, to that end...Rose, you know you can’t hire any of the people you interviewed this week, right?”

“They were pretty awful, weren’t they?” she asked with a weak smile.

“That’s...putting it mildly,” he said, nodding.

“What am I gonna _do_?” she moaned, finally uncrossing her arms to bury her face in her hands.

“Well...that depends,” he said slowly, scratching the back of his head.  “Am I fired for throwing the creep out.”

She looked up at him through her fingers.  “No.”

“Then...I suppose...staying for another week couldn’t hurt,” he said, tugging on an ear.

“You don’t...I can’t…”

“You’re not,” he said, dropping his hand.  “I’m offering.”

This time, when she hugged him, it was more deliberate, and she didn’t jump away the second he returned the hug, just tight enough to be reassuring, before she stepped away.

“Thank you, James,” she said, her eyes serious.  “And...I’m sorry.  About that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, pushing off the counter.  “And no need to thank me either.  I’m sure next week, you’ll find some who’s perfect.”

oOoOo

“Mummy?” Ian said Monday evening, looking up at Rose from where he was playing at the coffee table.  “Do you want to hear what I learned today?”

“Absolutely,” Rose said, setting down the project guidelines in front of her and turning to him.  “Tell me, my love.”

“There was a...a...filososofer...in ancient Greece,” he began, his face scrunching up in concentration as he tried to pronounce the difficult word.

“Philosopher?” Rose hazarded.

“Yeah!” he said with a relieved grin.  “And he was trying to figure out how to measure the volume of objects that weren’t easy like cubes and pyramids--”

 _Easy_ , Rose thought with a smile.

“--and then he got in bath and figured out that the water gets higher when you put something in it, and you could measure the volume of _that_.”

“Smart man,” Rose commented.

“Yeah,” Ian agreed.  “But that’s not the best part.  ‘Cause when he figured this out, he was excited, and he shouted ‘Eureka!’ and then jumped out of the bath to go tell his friends...and forgot to put any clothes on!”

Rose’s smile widened when Ian burst into a fit of giggles at the end of his tale.  “James tell you all that?”

“Uh huh,” Ian said, his eyes returning to his trucks.  “He said Daddy told him.”

Rose froze, staring at her son.  “He said what?”

“He said Daddy told him a long time ago,” Ian said.  “And he said Daddy was really smart, and nice, and would have been proud of me for being smart and nice too.”

“I think he’s probably right,” Rose said weakly.

It was later, after she’d put Ian to bed, that she sat on her bed with her phone in her hand, indecisively chewing on a nail.  After a moment, she took a breath and dialed a number.

“Ms. Smith,” James said when he picked up.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

"I heard a story," she said. "About a naked philosopher."

"Ah, Archimedes," James said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  “Definitely an interesting bloke.”

“Did...did John really tell you about that?” Rose asked hesitantly, swallowing at the lump in her throat.

“Mhm,” he said.  “About ten years ago, a time I went out to lunch with him and Jack.  Only happened a couple of times, but he had a way of lasting in the memory.”

“Yeah,” Rose agreed sadly, looking over at the leather jacket still hanging on the back of the closet door.  “Yeah, he did.  I try to...talk about him...but it’s…”  She stopped, sniffing and blinking back the tears in her eyes angrily.  After five years, she should be able to talk about him without crying.

“Of course it is,” James said softly.  “The thing about dying...people don’t go away when they die.  It’d be a lot easier for the living if they did, but it’s not the nature of things.  He’s still real to you, in all the little moments, in your head and your heart, indelible.  And you want him to be real for Ian, too...but sharing those moments, showing those marks he left...it’s not easy, because just remembering hurts.”

“Yeah,” she said again, thickly.  She swallowed hard and took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself.  “I just want to thank you, for telling him that.  It’s good for him to hear about his dad from people.”

“I just wish I’d had a chance to get to know him better,” James said.  “Especially now.  If his wife and son are any indication...he was the best sort of man.”

A warm, comforting feeling overtook her at the words and at the image of the crooked grin and soft, sincere eyes he surely wore as he said them.  It eased the ache and made the lump in her throat a little easier to swallow back.

“Thanks, James,” she said quietly.  “For...you know...everything.”

“It’s my pleasure, Rose.”

oOoOo

Rose looked down at the notes she had scribbled on the slightly wrinkled paper in her lap.  So far she had been pleasantly surprised by the candidate seated across from her.  Matthew Roberts was only a few years older than herself and had a very relaxed attitude.  One that she had mistaken for apathy, only to be proven wrong as the conversation went on.  He was actually rather intelligent and seemed to care greatly about his pupils.  She raked her eyes down the paper, looking for anything that triggered a warning.

"Is it alright if I ask you a personal question?" Matt asked, his fingers drumming on a knee of his tightly crossed legs.

Rose lifted her head, immediately ready to go on the defensive.  Ignoring the quiet shuffle of papers behind her as James and Ian worked, she raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak.

"It's about Ian," Matthew rushed on to clarify, a slight panicky look in his eyes.  His hands were raised slightly, warding off the hostility she was sure flashed in her eyes.

"Oh," Rose replied, blinking and swallowing the harsh retort she’d had ready.  She released a long, calming breath. "Go on."

“I know that Ian’s dad is no longer around.  The why doesn’t matter, that’s none of my business."  He leaned forward, speaking earnestly.  "However, young boys with no father can become misguided or lash out.  That doesn’t mean its your fault.  You just never know how they will react.”

“What’s your point?” Rose snapped, sitting up straighter.

“Ms Smith, you seem like a smart woman and I am sure you have been a very attentive mother,” he assured her.  “I am not trying to insinuate otherwise.”

Rose deflated, shaking her head. “Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright.  But I need to make something known upfront.”

“And that would be?” she asked.

“I would be Ian’s tutor,” Matthew said.  “And quite possibly...hopefully even, his friend. But I am not a grief counselor.”

The unspoken ‘or a father figure’ hung in the air between them.  Rose relaxed into the cushions of the arm chair.  That was fine, perfect even.  She wasn’t looking for a replacement for John.  And Ian was not in need of a shrink.  She could make this arrangement work.

"Understood. And actually sort of..." Rose trailed off, giving Matthew a warm smile.  "Perfect."  A choking sound followed by a loud clunk from behind her, made Rose twist around quickly in her seat.

James had slammed down his mug and was choking on his tea.  He could tell the interview had been going extremely well, only one minor bump that was quickly smoothed over and forgotten.  Something clawed at his insides.  Something he pushed away, not wishing to examine it further. But Rose's use of the word “perfect” had caused him to snap.  White hot emotion shot through his body and he had inhaled, sucking burning liquid into his mouth.

Regaining normal breathing, James looked from Ian's concerned face to Rose's.  She was watching him carefully, a small crease in her brow.  He reminded himself that this was what she needed.  Someone she could depend on to tutor her son. Ian deserved that.  He was just filling in until she found it.

"Sorry," James said meekly.

Rose turned back to the potential tutor sitting with a bemused expression on the sofa.  Matthew had amazing credentials, had answered all her questions to her satisfaction, and had even gotten along well with Ian.  Out of all the other candidates, he was the only one who would actually fit what she was looking for.  And if she gave him the job, James would be free to go.  But through the whole interview, she had felt like something didn’t feel...right.

James’ interruption had jarred her thoughts, and now they turned back to the phone conversation the night before...and Rose suddenly realized what was wrong with Matthew Roberts.

He wasn’t James.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Rose said after a moment, standing and holding out a hand when he followed her lead.  “I’ll be in touch.”

oOoOo

Friday evening, James was flipping through a book on Rome--the next topic Ian wanted learn about after the lesson on Pompeii--when Sylvia found him.

"Staying another week, then?" she asked, freshening the flowers in a vase.

"Oh, um...suppose so, yeah," he said slowly, just now realizing that he and Rose hadn't actually talked about it. He assumed something had come out in his references to make her pass on Mr. Perfect...and ignored the thrill the idea gave him.

"Uh huh," Sylvia said, giving him a sideways look. "Boy has she got you pegged."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked with a frown.

"It means she has no intention of finding another tutor for that boy."

"No, that's not..." He trailed off tiredly, scrubbing a hand down his face.  “Look, not that I need to explain it, but she got home the same time we got back from the zoo, and she just took Ian up and I came home.  We didn’t have a chance to talk.”

“Sure,” Sylvia said, turning and resting one hand on the counter, the other on her hip.  “Tell me, James, when was her last interview?”

“Well...she had one Tuesday...and…” He trailed off again.  No...that couldn’t have been it...could it?

“Uh huh,” Sylvia said again, shaking her head and staring at him.  “All that time you ran from us because we wanted you to be a doctor or barrister, and you get locked down into being a glorified _nanny_ because some estate girl bats her eyes at you.”

“No...that’s not...that’s not how it is,” he said slowly, even as he felt a band start to tighten around his chest.

“Oh, she’s got your number alright, Mr. Man,” Sylvia said with a derisive snort.  “I’d put hard money on the fact that all those interviews were just for show.  Why would she hire someone else when she could have a genius with a hero complex working for peanuts?”

She turned and left with the vase, leaving James staring after her.  Some rational part of his mind was saying that Rose wouldn’t do that, she didn’t work like that, her need to do everything on her own wouldn’t have allowed her to manipulate him like that…

Unless that was an act too.

Any rational part of his mind got drowned in the reflexive horror he felt at being tied anywhere against his will for any length of time.  The house suddenly felt suffocating, the whole bloody _country_ suddenly felt like it was closing in on him.  He bolted from the room, leaving the book on Rome behind on the counter.

Within hours, he was driving his car onto the chunnel train bound for France, blocking out any thoughts of curious blue eyes and tongue-touched smiles.

 


	8. Avoidance Techniques

It was almost four in the morning when James reached Paris, and he had one of his rare moments of personal awareness of the benefits of having money to burn as he checked into a fairly posh hotel with no questions asked, despite the hour and his rumpled appearance. He dropped his laptop and duffle as soon as he got up to his room and flopped on the bed, letting terrible adverts lull him into an exhausted sleep.

When he clawed his way back to consciousness two hours later, he wasn't feeling any better about events in London, but at least he was awake and there was a channel and a country border separating him from all of it.

He called down for breakfast and and took a shower before slipping on his specs and checking his phone out of habit. When he realized he still had it off, he decided to leave it that way, not interested yet in answering the texts that were surely waiting from his sister. She'd been up on the hill with Grandad when he'd gotten done hurriedly packing, and he hadn't wanted to deal with the goodbyes and explanations and arguments from both of them. It wasn't unusual for him, but she always tried to get a hold of him soon after to find out where he was going and if he got there alright. At the moment, he still wasn't sure where he was going, and he was far from alright, so best avoid it entirely for the moment.

Instead, he set up his laptop at the desk in the room, eating his breakfast as he scanned the email he'd been ignoring the last couple of weeks. Friends either asking him to visit or suggesting a place to him, a few emails from people and companies asking for his help, his money, or both.  After several minutes, he sighed and pulled a pad of paper toward him, jotting down some possibilities: Rome, Venice, Athens--

He twitched and quickly crossed out all three, closing his email with a jerk.  He took a deep breath as he stared at the desktop of his computer, then brought up the software he’d been working on.  When it was done, it would work for children that were homeschooled--and, in theory, even in classrooms--to create tailor made curriculum through a series of activities.  It wouldn’t take the place of teachers and tutors, but it would allow students to work at their own pace, rather than being pulled ahead by the group before they were ready or held below their ability and left bored.  It relied on benchmarks for each grade, but students could easily be working on activities for different grade levels in different subjects.  He’d already had some success using it with Ian, who was currently working on fourth year maths, sixth year reading, and all over the map in science and social studies--

James stared at the data for a moment before making a strangled noise and shutting the laptop with a snap.  He rubbed at his eyes under his glasses for a moment, then pulled them off and set them on the desk as he rose, wandering away and turning on the television.  He flopped on the bed and flipped channels for several minutes, but suddenly had felt restless, claustrophobic.  In another minute, he gave up on the television, tugging on his coat and a hat before making his way out of the hotel.

He spent the day wandering the city, from the Notre Dame to the Moulin Rouge to the Arc de Triomphe, taking in the sites as well as the immense amount of history and architecture between the high points.  More than once, he found himself thinking of lessons for Ian, and taking pictures to show him, before he’d move on in frustration.  It was insane, he was in one of the most famous cities in the world, the city of romance, and he kept thinking about a six year old boy who was caught in the crossfire of his mother’s manipulation.

He stopped at a corner bookseller before having dinner alone at a cafe near the Eiffel Tower, then ventured over to Champ de Mars, sitting on the grass as the famous landmark lit up with the setting sun.  Hawkers selling tourist buys moved around, and James ended up buying three figurines on impulse, only realizing after the vendor had moved off that he’d bought one for Ian.

He sighed and set them aside, gazing at the twinkling edifice as he brooded on things he’d been trying, with little success, to avoid all day.  Thing was, he did like Ian.  He even liked tutoring him.  The past month, time had flown by, and until Friday, he hadn’t really felt the burn to run.  There wasn’t anything about the situation itself that he was fleeing from--it was the choice being taken from him.  He’d faced that enough after working with Torchwood, from every side.  His duty to his country, his family, mankind, all coming wrapped in contracts and emotional blackmail.  That’s why he’d run, why he’d never looked back, why he’d fought so hard after his dad had died to keep from getting shackled to a life he couldn’t stand because of some ambiguous notion that James owed it to his dad to become something the older man had wanted despite the fact that his father was dead and gone and would never know the difference.

James ran his hand through his hair in frustration after watching the lights twinkle to show the hour for the third time.  He picked up his book and figurines and trudged away, having accomplished nothing but becoming more annoyed.  He couldn’t even understand why she’d done it; Rose had interviewed someone who was clearly an ideal match, if a bit...young and...irritating.  So why not just take him?  Maybe she hadn’t been as upset about the things he’d bought as she’d let on…

But the flash in her eyes, the stubborn pride that both she and her son shared rose up in his mind’s eye as he walked through the dark streets, contradicting every reason he had for running.  It was such a knee-jerk reaction, the need to evade any sort of forced responsibility...no.  She hadn’t even said anything about hiring anyone.  He’d already been swindled into staying twice as long as he’d planned, and god only knew how long she’d keep him there if he hadn’t left when he did.  Better this way.  Better for everyone involved, before Ian started to believe his mother’s delusion and think that James would have some permanence in his life.

Right.  Better this way.

He repeated this to himself as he entered the hotel and made his way up to his room, but it didn’t actually ease his mind at all.  He dropped everything on the desk and opened the minibar; if he couldn’t get peace on his own, he’d look for it at the bottom of several small bottles.

oOoOo

After scraping a couple of hours of sleep together, James awoke and immediately regretted several decisions, specifically the last few decisions to open a new bottle from the minibar.  He groaned as he sat up, trying to remember Jack’s hangover cure; the memory proved elusive through the headache, though, so he settled on a bloody mary while he squinted at the coffee maker in his room, trying to work out how to make it go.  Every bit of genius failed him at seven am on Sundays.

Eventually, after managing to get the coffee to brew, stumbling through a shower, and pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and button up, he felt half-way human again.  Sitting down at the desk and slipping on his glasses, he took a deep breath and turned on his phone.  As he’d figured, there were at least ten messages from Donna since Friday evening, getting increasingly shouty.  There were also a couple from Jack and one from Rose...these he scrolled past quickly without opening, going for Donna’s most recent text.

_IF YOU DON’T BLOODY ANSWER ME, YOU’D BETTER BE DEAD, OR I’M GONNA KILL YOU._

James winced, knowing that his sister’s use of volume and/or caps lock was directly proportional to how worried she was.  It wasn’t like they were always in constant contact, but he usually let her know within twenty-four hours of leaving where he was heading, and warned her if he was going off the grid.  Disappearing like that without a word for two days wasn’t a good move.

_I’m fine.  I’m in Paris.  Not sure how long.  No death present or necessary._

He didn’t even bother to put the phone down, and smiled when he had a reply within seconds.  Hundred and fifty words per minute, his sister, and texts were no exception.

_What happened?_

_Nothing.  Just time to go.  Same old life.  I’ll text you when I leave the city._

_Make sure you do.  Love you, Spaceman._

_You too, Earthgirl._

James tossed the phone down on the desk after sending the last message and rubbed his eyes under his specs.  This was just _stupid_.  The brief text conversation only confirmed it.  He never stayed home long.  Leaving now shouldn’t be having such a massive effect on him.  It was simply time to go, to move on.  Another few days in Paris to sort out where the hell he was going, at least some sort of...geographical _region_...and then he’d be off again

Til then...might as well make the most of it, he reasoned, pulling off his specs and shrugging into his coat.  It was maybe a ten minute walk to the Louvre from his hotel, and despite the slightly sore muscles from the wandering the day before, fresh air couldn’t hurt.

He took his time getting to the museum, and wandered around for a while before noting with dark amusement that he’d found his way to Greek and Roman installations.  Clearly his subconscious wasn’t allowing him to let go of this, regardless of how little sense it made.  He sighed, and turned to leave, but a voice called out to him.

“You know, most people come to the Louvre for the wonder, to distract themselves from their problems.”

James turned to see a blonde woman watching him with an amused expression.

“Well,” he said, glancing around as he drew out the word, “occasionally the subconscious gets stuck on ‘torture’, making distraction difficult.”

“Pity,” she said, stepping toward him.  “Always the handsome ones that are tortured souls.”

“Nah, not a tortured soul,” he said, flashing a crooked smile.  “Just sort of...temporarily on the rack.”

“Perhaps you simply need some help?” she suggested, smiling a little.  “A conspirator in your plans for distraction.  Reinette Poisson,” she added, holding out a hand.

He hesitated for a moment, then shook her hand.  “James Noble,” he offered.  He thought he saw a flash of something in her eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.  He shrugged it off, instead saying, “and you...share your name with some rather famous french aristocracy.”

“Yes, so I’m reminded every time I meet someone new,” she said, her eyes twinkling.  “At least now I’ve met a noble.  Perhaps in a past life you were a king...or at least a lord.”

“Oh, of course,” he said, grinning wide.  “Face like mine?  Born to be printed on money.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing it so often,” she commented, arching a brow.

“Oh...I...um...well,” he stuttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels as he coughed awkwardly.

“Do you collect much art?” Reinette asked, ignoring his discomfort as she looked around.  He followed her gaze throughout the gallery and shook his head.

“Nah,” he said dismissively.  “Art should be in museums where it can be enjoyed by the masses, not in some dusty collection somewhere.  I’d have no where to put it anyway...I travel a lot,” he explained hurriedly.

“Well, then you should definitely take this opportunity to enjoy it,” she said, taking his arm and leading him to the nearest piece, sharing tidbits of information on the way.

They spent much of the day like that, trading random trivia about pieces they came across, both occasionally throwing out a bald faced lie in an attempt to trip the other up, and never succeeding.  James had to admit he was enjoying himself, and Reinette was proving to be a worthy opponent to his internal crisis.

He couldn’t quite relax with her, though.  For one thing, her flirting grew more obvious as the day wore on, and his confusion with it.  She was pretty, he supposed, in a sort of...meticulous way, like she’d taken care to appear not to care, as well as being clearly intelligent and commanding of her knowledge, but she was almost aggressive in her interest with him, for whatever reason.  While a day spent with a bright, beautiful young woman would be a worthy pastime in most cases, he became increasingly uncomfortable, feeling like cornered prey rather than an afternoon’s companion.

“You should take me to dinner,” she said finally as afternoon turned to evening.

“I...what?” he said.

“I think I’ve done a passable job keeping you off the rack,” she replied with a shrug.  “No reason to go back to it just yet.”

“Oh.  Um,” he hedged, but didn’t actually see a viable excuse to say no.  Dinner couldn’t hurt.  “Yeah, alright.  Lady’s choice.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, leading the way out of the museum.

They’d only managed to walk a few feet from the museum before James’ phone chirped in his pocket.  He pulled it out and gave it a cursory glance, then froze when he saw that it was Rose calling.  He grappled for a moment, then made a frustrated noise.

“Hang on,” he muttered to Reinette, then paced away as he brought the phone to his ear.  “Hello?”

“James!” Rose said immediately, sounding surprised.  He didn’t think he’d let it ring _that_ long...maybe she was just surprised he answered at all.  “Um, hi!  It’s...it’s Rose.”

“I know,” he said, narrowing his eyes a little.  “Listen, Rose--”

“Ugh, I know, it’s the weekend, and I’m so sorry,” she interrupted quickly.

“No...no, it’s not that--”

“Oh god, are you on a date?” she asked quickly, sounding panicked.  “Did I interrupt a date?  Shit.  Oh, bollocks, Ian don’t repeat that word.”

“I’m not a date,” he told her, smiling a little despite himself.

“Oh...alright, good,” she said.  “I’m sorry, though...it’s just...Ian.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine,” she assured him quickly.  “It’s just he keeps asking me these questions about Rome that he forgot to ask you on Friday, and is driving us both mad with worry that you won’t be able to answer or that you’ll forget the book, since reminding you to bring the book wasn’t actually the last sentence he uttered on Friday.  Can you... _please_...just talk to him for a minute before I’m forced to take drastic measures?”

“What drastic measures?” he asked, glancing back at Reinette.

“I’d rather not say,” Rose said in a conspiratorial tone.  “But I have got the duct tape nearby.”

“Dire circumstances indeed,” he said with a smile, turning away again.

“So you see my problem,” she agreed.  “Do you think you could just...talk to him?  For a minute?  Please?  Assure him that you’ll bring the book tomorrow and you’ll tell him all about ancient Rome?”

James started at that, remembering where he was and why.  It was so easy to fall into casual conversation with Rose...probably why he hadn’t noticed what she was doing in the first place.  But the fact that a little boy was going to suffer was most likely the reason his subconscious had been flogging him the past two days; Ian deserved some sort of goodbye, and an assurance that it had nothing to do with him.

“Yeah, put him on,” James said finally, his tone guarded once more.

He heard the sound of the phone changing hands, and then Ian’s voice cautiously say, “James?”

“Hey, little man,” James said.

“Hi!” Ian said, instantly sounding cheered.

“Hi,” James said, smiling again, then paused, trying to figure out the best way to say what he needed to.  “Listen, Ian, about Rome--”

“You are bringing the book right?” the little boy interrupted.  _JUST like his mum_ , James thought, exasperated.  “Does it talk about Circus Maximus?  Did they have lions there?  ‘Cause I thought they did lions at the Colosseum with the gladiators.  And I saw a thing that said that Romans didn’t use soap, but Mummy says she needs v...verif’cation of that before she lets me skip bath time.  And I wanna know, how come English people speak English and Greek people speak Greek but Romans speak Latin, do you know?”

“I...I’m not sure,” James managed, feeling a little dizzy at the barrage of inquiries.  “Um...that’s actually a good question.  But as for baths, they rubbed themselves with oil and then chipped it off, which took a lot more time.  And they didn’t have toys to play with like you do in the bath.”

“Oh,” Ian said, sounding disappointed.  “But we can talk about the other stuff tomorrow, right?  And you’ll bring the book?”

“I…”  James trailed off, closing his eyes and cursing silently.  This wasn’t something he could do on the phone.  Not like this.  “Yeah, tomorrow.  I’ll bring the book, and we’ll talk about Rome.”

Ian gave an excited squeek, and James looked up at the sky as the phone once again changed hands.

“Thank you so much,” Rose said sincerely.  “He’s honestly been like that since we walked in the door Friday afternoon.  I’m sorry I interrupted your weekend.”

“It’s fine,” he sighed.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They said goodbye, and James stared at his phone for a minute before shaking his head and shoving it back in his pocket.  Never involve kids.  Never get close.  Go where you want, leave when you say you’re going to leave.  They were all rules he lived by, because if he didn’t it was too easy to get trapped--just like this.

He sighed again as he turned around and walked back to Reinette.

“Sorry,” he said as he got close.  “I’m going to have to cancel on dinner...something came up, and I’ve got to leave tonight.”

“That’s hardly fair,” she said with a coy smile, and he frowned in confusion as she stepped forward and toyed with the lapel of his jacket.  “A handsome millionaire should be allowed to enjoy Paris as he pleases.”

He froze, the sound of blood pumping in his ears blocking out everything else as the day came sharply into focus.  The flash when he’d said his name, the aggressive flirting, the cloying interest and personality…he'd consciously made an effort to keep from becoming any sort of household name, but he knew his work with governments, his age, his fortune had given it circulation in certain society circles.  Evidently, Reinette was a part of them.

“Oh, Reinette,” he said softly.  “You’re so much better than that.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking startled as she stepped away from him.

“You’re so intelligent,” he said.  “Why would you use that in such a poor manner?”

“I beg you’re pardon,” she snapped.

“Tell me, when did my net worth become a topic of conversation?” he asked.  “Hmm?  No...you knew who I was...that’s why you stuck by me all day like glue.  Why you suggested dinner.  God, it’s never simple is it?”

She had the decency to look away then, flushing as she mumbled, “I don’t know--”

“Oh, come off it,” he said, rolling his eyes.  “You took me for an easy mark, the lonely man at the Louvre with the fat bank account and no one to spoil.  You’re astonishing.”  He turned away with a disgusted noise, then paused, pivoting back to her.  “I should thank you, though.”

“For what?” she asked, confused.

“Reminding me what manipulation actually looks like,” he replied, then shook his head.  “Best of luck, Reinette.”

He turned again, walking quickly back to his hotel to pack up his meager belongings.  Within an hour, he was back in his car and heading for Calais and, eventually, London.  As he drove, the conversation with his mother ran through a filter of rationality in his mind, and he got more irritated with himself and Sylvia as the kilometers rolled by.

Rose had been clearly self-reliant from the start, and he just couldn’t see her faking that flash of anger if she was trying to manipulate him into staying.  His initial defense of not having had time to discuss it still made sense; there was also the possibility that, given the surprise that seemed to have her near tears both times he’d said he’d stay, she’s simply been terrified he’d say no if she asked again.

In either scenario, it was clearly not a case of manipulation, at least not on Rose’s part.  What Sylvia got out of it was anyone’s guess, other than her patented inability to realize the effect of her words on anyone ever.  And James couldn’t simply leave Rose high and dry because things weren’t happening the way either of them had planned--she _had_ interviewed plenty of people, most of them terrible, and it had left her stressed the whole time he’d been there.  If he really wanted to give her a break, like he’d said, he wouldn’t be leaving her so uncertain from week to week that she’d be deserted.

 _One month_ , he told himself as he pulled up to his mother’s house hours later.  He’d give Rose a month before he brought it up again.  Time to breathe before she needed to start interviewing again.  And then she _had_ to find someone else, obviously, because he couldn’t stay forever...but he could stay for a month.


	9. Chips and Ice Cream

Rose bit her nail as she paced her office nervously.  She’d been in a state of constant tension for a few weeks now, but at any moment, at least one cause would be laid to rest, for better or worse.  The lucrative campaign she’d been working round the clock on for the last two weeks had been presented earlier that day, but the clients had left afterwards “to consider their options”.  They had called Sarah Jane a few minutes ago.  Now it was just a matter of time until she found out if the work she’d been slaving over had been sought after.

Simple yes or no.  That’s all.

If only the rest of it was so easy.

Trying to distract herself from the matter at hand had only pushed other things she’d rather not think about to the forefront of her mind.  Specifically the guilt swirling around her son’s tutor.  After Mr Roberts, she hadn’t mentioned finding a tutor again to James, and she felt terrible.  It was such a cowardly thing to do, and she knew that it wouldn’t ever be more than a temporary stall tactic.  Eventually, James would still leave, and she wasn’t actually helping anyone by avoiding the subject, given how attached Ian already was.  But at the same time, her son had never been happier, and she wasn’t getting angry phone calls about his behavior, and she had someone not only willing to tutor her son, but to take him on day trips and even stay late a few times while she worked.  Because of all that, she couldn’t quite bring herself to bring it up with James and receive a more definitive refusal to stay.  In some ways, it was easier to just pretend while she could, and deal with the consequences later.  But all her pretending couldn’t take away the guilt she felt about using him like this.  If she could just somehow do something to try to make up for some of it--

“Rose Tyler, you little creative genius!” Sarah Jane cried as she burst into the room, pulling Rose into a tight hug.  Rose froze, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open for a moment before she managed to recover.

“Um, they...they liked it, then?” she stammered, extricating herself from Sarah Jane’s embrace.

“Liked it?” Sarah Jane said.  “Why, Rose, they loved it.  The only reason they didn’t agree right then is that there was some relation or other who fancies himself a designer, and--well, it doesn’t matter, they just faxed over the contract!”

“That’s…that’s wonderful!” Rose said, feeling a bit of the weight drop off her shoulders and smiling in relief.

“And all thanks to you,” Sarah Jane went on.  “That’s why you’re leaving, right now.”

“I’m-I’m sorry?” Rose asked, anxiety once again kicking in.

“Rose, you’ve chained yourself to this office for the past two weeks,” Sarah Jane said, shaking her head before handing her an envelope.  “Now, take this bonus--shush, take it--and take that boy of yours out for some fun.  You deserve it.”

Rose continued to protest, explaining about other projects she needed to start working on that had been put aside for this one, but Sarah Jane would have none of it; her employer proceeded to close her fingers around the envelope, pile her coat and bag into her arms, and push her out the door.

“I don’t want to see you until ten tomorrow morning, is that understood?” Sarah Jane ordered sternly.  “Get some sleep!”

“Yes ma’am,” Rose replied automatically, and Sarah Jane smiled warmly at her before heading back into the office.

Rose stood in stunned silence for a moment before shaking herself and juggling her belongings to wrestle her jacket on.  She swung her bag over her shoulder as she walked down the street, chancing a look inside the envelope, only to stop again in shock at the generous amount.  She hurried to the bank, realizing that she might have found a way to assuage some of the other guilt about a certain tutor as well.

oOoOo

“Well, you’re home early,” James said with a smile as Rose opened the door.

“Mummy!” Ian cried happily, running to her.  “You said you were gonna be late again!”

“Change of plans,” Rose said with a grin, swinging Ian up into her arms.  “We’re going out to dinner!”

“Really?” Ian said, a disbelieving smile growing on his face.  “Can we get chips?”

“Absolutely,” she replied with a decisive nod, then glanced sideways at where James was already putting on his jacket and watching them with a soft smile.  “In fact...maybe we could even talk James into joining us…”

Ian’s face immediately lit up, and he squirmed out of Rose’s arms.

“You wanna come with us, James?” he asked, eyes wide as he bounded over to the tutor.  “Please can you?  We’re gonna get chips!”

“I heard!” James said, raising his eyebrows, then looking up at Rose.  “I dunno, though..”

“Come on, my treat,” Rose said.  “Please?  I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I haven’t done anything,” he said with a shrug.

“You were here,” Rose said, then flushed guiltily and looked away, picking at her nails awkwardly.  “Just, you know, the way you stayed late a couple of times, and knowing that Ian was happy and learning and I wasn’t going to be getting any angry phone calls and, well, I can’t really do much to pay you back, only--”

“Okay,” James said softly from quite close, and she looked up up quickly to see that he’d stepped directly in front of her while she was distracted.

“What?” she asked, momentarily lost.

“Okay,” he repeated, and the curious look on his face vanished with a happy grin.  “Chips, lovely!  One condition.”

“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’m driving,” he said, arching an eyebrow and reaching behind her for Ian’s jacket.

“No arguments from me,” she said, grinning and letting her tongue wander over her teeth.

After getting Ian into his jacket, James led Rose and Ian down to the carpark, where his Ford waited.  He opened both the front and back passenger doors, and waiting by the front door for Rose to get in.  She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, wondering where the sudden desire for chivalry had come from, while Ian clambered into his booster seat in the back without hesitation.  James merely smiled and winked at her before nodding at the interior, and she finally shook her head and slid into the front seat.  James closed the door behind her before checking Ian’s belt and closing his door, then jogged around to the driver’s side.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be some sort of millionaire tech genius or something?” Rose asked looking around at the dash as he pulled out into the street.

“Suppose,” he said, and Rose glanced at him to see him visibly tense and shift uncomfortably.

“Only, aren’t you supposed to be driving, dunno, a BMW or Mercedes or something?” she asked, watching him curiously.  “Don’t see a lot of millionaires driving a ten year old Ford Focus.”

“Oi!” he cried in offense, but seemed to relax a bit.  “Don’t knock the car.  I’ll have you know, Rose Smith, that this is one of safest and most reliable cars built.  Won awards and everything, the year I bought it.  I did research, thank you very much.”

“I like Bessie,” Ian piped up from the backseat, and Rose turned in her seat to look at him in confusion at this random remark.

“Who’s Bessie?” she asked.

“The car,” James explained with a chuckle.

“Bessie’s a good car,” Ian said, nodding.

“You named your car Bessie,” Rose said, staring at his profile.

“Something wrong with that?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said, turning front in her seat once more.

“It’s a good name, right, Ian?” James asked, glancing at the boy in the rearview mirror.

“Yep!” Ian agreed happily.

“He’d agree with you on anything,” Rose said with a laugh, rolling her eyes.

“Because he knows I’m right,” James insisted, patting the wheel fondly.  “Bessie’s a good little car.  And I keep her tuned regularly, replace parts as needed...come to think of it, not really sure how much of her is actually still original parts…”

“When do you find time to do all that?” she asked.

“I don’t sleep much,” he said with a shrug.  “Brain doesn’t shut off easily.”

“John was the same way,” Rose said, rolling her eyes.  “Kept saying, mind as large as his, how could anyone expect him to waste time sleeping?”

“He raises a good point,” James said with smile.

“He did a lot of that,” Rose said softly, eyes unfocusing a little as she gazed out the windscreen.  She barely even felt the car roll to a stop at a light, but looked down when she felt James’ hand on hers, giving it a small squeeze.  She looked up to see him watching her in concern, but--thankfully--without pity.  She smiled a little, and his thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles before he pulled away, returning his hand to the wheel as the light changed.

“So, Ian, wanna tell your mum about what you learned today about emperors?” he asked, deftly changing the subject.  Rose also couldn’t help but notice, as Ian chattered happily about Augustus and Tiberius and Caligula, that James had also mercifully maneouvered them into a conversation that was pleasantly distracting, but didn’t actually require much on her part.

The conversation about Rome and it’s various emperors lasted them through the drive and most of the meal, Ian and James competing for most enthusiastic historian while Rose laughed and listened with interest.  As they were leaving, James “just happened” to spot an ice cream shop a few doors down, and, with an unapologetic grin at Rose, took Ian by the hand and walked over. 

Between the sprinkles, chocolate syrup, and cookie bits, plus just the excitement of being out and having his beloved James with him, Ian was practically vibrating as they returned to the car.  Rose was just in the process of trying to figure out how she was _ever_ going to calm him down enough for bed when James stopped at the park near the flat and turned off the engine.

“Thought it might do some good to let him run off some excess energy,” he said as he opened her door and turned to Ian’s.

Ian made a happy whoop when he got out of the car and ran for the playground, the two adults trailing behind him.  James pushed him on the swing for a bit, and then Rose sat off to the side as spectator while the two waged war with sticks.  Ian, of course, was the emperor and in charge of the Roman army, and Rose laughed when James finally surrendered, kneeling before the little boy agreeing to be part of the Roman empire and serve Emperor Ian until his dying day.

“That’s alright then,” Ian said, taking the stick away from James’ throat before dropping it and running off to climb on the tall structure in the middle of the park.

James arched a brow and snorted before getting to his feet and walking over to Rose’s bench.  He dropped down next to her, and she could tell he was more winded than he’d let on with the six-year-old.

“Having trouble keeping up, old man?” Rose asked with a smirk.

“Hush,” he said.  “Absolutely not.  I’m just--”

“Not a six-year-old after a mountain of sugar?” she asked sweetly.

“Right,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, it was a valiant effort,” she said earnestly.  “And an honorable defeat.”

“There could be no other outcome, with an Emperor such as he,” James said, giving her a crooked grin, and she smiled back at him.  “Congratulations, by the way,” he said after a moment, and she gave him a questioning look.  “On the account.  I don’t think I actually said so earlier.  Tough one?”

“Well, a lucrative one,” she said.  “And...yeah, a little difficult.  They were incredibly vague about what they wanted, only that it shouldn’t be anything seen before, and they shot down a few mock ups before the actual presentation, so I had to completely rethink things a few times.  But it worked out in the end.”

“Course it did,” he said confidently.  “You’re brilliant.”

“Dunno about that,” she said.  “But thanks.”

“So are you going to celebrate with others this weekend?” he asked, stretching his arms out over the back of the bench.

“Others?” she asked, leaning forward and turning a little, crossing her legs and folding her arms in her lap.

“Yeah, I mean, other...family and things?” he said.

“Oh...there isn’t any,” she said with a shrug.

“What, no one?” he asked, surprised.  “I mean...Ian hasn’t really mentioned anyone...but surely--”

Rose shook her head.  “Just us.  John and I were both only children.  His parents died when he was little, same as my dad, and my mum died when I was sixteen.  Everyone else just sort of...drifted off.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, a pained look on his face.  “I shouldn’t have--”

“No, it’s alright,” she said quickly.  “Long time ago, all of it.  It’s fine.  What about you?”

“What--oh, my family?” he asked, and she nodded.  “There’s my mum and my sister, Donna, she’s a couple years older than me.  My dad died a couple of years ago...heart attack.”  He paused, his eyes staring off into the middle distance for a moment, then he looked back at her and shook himself.  “There’s my granddad too, he moved in with Mum after Dad died.  I think it’s done them both some good, but I don’t think either would admit it.”

“Your sister lives there too?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said.  “She was living with her fiance for a while, but he turned out to be a bit of an enormous prat, so she moved back in with Mum.”

“Busy house,” Rose commented, unsure of how she’d do with that much...family all the time.

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyebrows jumping.  “You think I agree to stay late just to keep you and Ian happy?” he asked with a smirk.

“Perish the thought,” Rose said, chuckling.  She turned her head to check on Ian, and caught him waving from the top of the climbing structure.  She and James both gave little waves back, and the little boy returned to whatever he’d been doing; probably another campaign to conquer.

“So what made you get into graphic design?” he asked curiously after a moment.

“John,” she said.  “I wasn’t...really...doing much, when we met.”

“But why design, specifically?” he pressed.

“I always loved art,” she explained.  “Graphic design is a sort of modern, consumerist medium for it.  Far cry from Monet, but it’s something.”

James hummed thoughtfully.  “Do you ever do any other art on your own?  Just for you?”

“Not really,” she said, picking a nonexistent piece of lint off her trousers.  “I used to, when Ian was a baby, but…”

“Never quite been easy for you, has it?” James asked softly.  She glanced up at him, but once again found only warm understanding, a little sad but without pity.  She shrugged, looking down again.  Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to pull it together, and jumping a little when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“You know, we should probably get going,” she said brightly, covering the movement by bringing her wrist up to look at her watch.

“Yeah, alright,” he said, watching her closely for a moment before standing.  “Emperor Ian!” he called.  “You chariot awaits, sir.”

Ian came running across the playground and launched himself at James, who spun him around amidst giggles before setting him back on his feet and taking his hand to lead him back to the car.  Rose smiled at the happy moment, and pushed away the twinge of heartache that Ian couldn’t do that with his father before following them.

When James dropped them off at their flat, Rose opened the door and moved to get out of the car, but stopped when James grabbed hold of her arm.

“I just want to say...thanks,” he said sincerely.  “For tonight.  For the dinner...and conversation.”

“It was just chips and ice cream,” she said, surprised.

“No, it wasn’t,” he said.  She frowned a little in confusion, and he added hastily, “I mean, you didn’t have to include me.  So...thank you, for that.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, grinning at him.  Once again, his thumb moved against her arm before he let her go, and she inexplicably cursed the need for a jacket.  She shook herself and got out of the car, quickly moving to let Ian out as well.  James rolled down the window as they stepped away from the car, and Rose paused.

“See you tomorrow, Emperor,” he called, snapping off a lazy salute for Ian.  “Good night, Rose.”

“Night, James,” Ian said, waving vigorously as James rolled up the window and drove off.  “That was fun,” he added as Rose took his hand and headed up the steps.  “Mummy, can we have dinner with him again?”

“Oh...I dunno,” she said.  “Maybe.  But for now...time for a certain little boy to brush his teeth and get into his jimjams.”

“Mummy,” Ian said, rolling his eyes in exasperation.  “Emperors don’t _have_ bedtimes.”

“They do when they’re six and live with me,” she said, unlocking the door and helping him out of his coat before giving him a light swat on the bottom.  “Scoot.”

“Oh, alright,” he said with a long suffering sigh.  “One day, Mummy, I’m gonna stay up for a whole week, and not brush my teeth _at all._ ”

“Let me know how that turns out.”


	10. Birthday Surprise

James stared at his screen, watching the cursor as it blinked accusingly.  The document only had one word so far…he’d thought, if he could write it down, the rest would just come to him.  Evidently not.  He sighed and raised his hands to the keyboard, trying again.

_Rose,_

_I know things haven’t been easy_

No.

_Rose,_

_As you know, I agreed to be a **temporary** tutor some time ago_

No.

_Rose,_

_You know that I think the world of you_

Dammit.

He hit the backspace key several times with an annoyed growl.  This week would mark a month since his weekend in France, and a month since he’d realized Rose wasn’t actually looking for a replacement.  In a few days, he was supposed to be confronting her about this, which had all sounded so simple when he’d first come back…for about a week.

He still wasn’t completely sure how it happened.  Somehow, he’d gone from wary annoyance to…something else.  Somewhere between staying late when she asked and lingering over cups of tea when she didn’t, they’d become…friends.  Which, in itself, wasn’t a bad thing, but it did make it more difficult to remain objective, to remember that this was only temporary, and that there was a reason for that.

Then she’d taken him to dinner.  Then he’d found out just how completely alone she actually was.  The armor around her made more sense after that, but also made the warmth it hid that much more distracting.

The thought entered his head later that night that she’d only shared that information to garner pity, but he’d dismissed it quickly as his own paranoia.  Pity was clearly the last thing Rose Smith desired.  Raising a child—especially one as bright and curious as Ian—without John was difficult enough; without even any family for support was unfathomable.  James might have issues with some of his family, and spend most of his time on his own, but he couldn’t imagine them not being in London when he did come home.

Oddly, it was the little tells—the faraway look she got when she mentioned John, the closed off body language when they talked about her family and art—that had the biggest effect on James.  Because she was so quick to push it aside, to shrink from any sort of support or sympathy; the last suspicions he’d had of manipulation had drained away.

The frustration came from the fact that he still couldn’t stay, obviously, but every time he thought about how to approach the subject, he’d start thinking about her smile, and how much it took for her to have one at all after everything.  Then there was the way she was always ready to listen to Ian prattle excitedly about whatever subject his mind was fixated on that day, or the hesitant and flustered look she’d had when explaining why it was important to her to treat James to dinner, even if it was just chips and ice cream.

He stared at her name on the screen for another few seconds before snapping the laptop closed in irritation.  Ian jumped a little, looking up from the problems he was working on.

“Sorry, little man,” James said quickly.

“It’s okay,” Ian said.  “You having trouble writing too?”

“Too?” he asked, confused.

“Mummy was trying to write something last night, but she got furstrated too,” Ian explained.

“Frustrated,” James corrected automatically, his mind whirring.  Might not have anything to do with him…but if it did…he shook himself when he realized Ian was talking to him again.  “Sorry?”

“I said it’s Mummy’s birthday today,” Ian said.

“Oh, really?” James asked, blinking and switching mental gears.  “How are you celebrating?”

“We’re not,” Ian said slowly.  “She doesn’t celebrate her birthday.”

“How come?” James asked.

“Uncle Jack says it makes her sad,” Ian replied, frowning.  “But do you think I could still make her a card?”

“No,” he said, watching the little boy.  “D’you know why?”

“Cause I have to do math?” Ian asked in a small, crestfallen voice.

“Nope,” James said, standing and striding over to the coat hooks by the door.  “Because we’re going shopping.”

“What for?” Ian asked, but scrambled off the chair without hesitation.

“Well, for starters, we’re getting your mum some flowers,” James said, helping Ian into his coat.  “And then we’re getting something to make her for dinner.  How’s that sound?”

“Can we make a cake?” Ian asked excitedly, catching some of James’ enthusiasm.

“Oh yes,” James said, grinning madly as he shrugged into his own jacket.

oOoOo

Contrary to what he’d said, they went for the food first, as that would probably keep better than the flowers would.  They settled on ravioli for dinner, since Ian could help with that.  After picking up various items of produce and staples, they spent some time deliberating on the cake, finally deciding that the fairly obvious chocolate was the way to go before purchasing the lot and heading out for the flowers.

James gently vetoed roses, remembering Rose, the person, wrinkling her nose last week when they’d been talking about flowers for some reason or other; he’d agreed that it was a bit too cliché.  He pointed Ian toward some vibrant blue and yellow irises instead, and smiled when Ian shyly agreed with the clerk that a few forget-me-nots and sprigs of baby’s breath would make the bouquet beautiful.  Ian carefully held the flowers on the ride home, not wanting any to get smooshed, and James’ first action upon reaching the flat, after dropping the groceries, was to find a vase for them.

Once the flowers were situated on the table, the two men got to work in the kitchen.  There was a brief divergence of a small flour fight, but James managed to steer them back to task with relative ease after a while.  Before long, the dough for the raviolis was ready and cut into neat circles.  They started an assembly line, James filling them and Ian, standing on a chair next to him, sealing them carefully with a fork before setting them aside.

“Do you really think Mummy will like this dinner?” Ian asked while they worked.

“Yes,” James said, handing him another circle topped with cheese filling.  “Especially since you made it.  So long as she doesn’t have to clean up,” he added, glancing around the flour dusted kitchen.

“Mummy said you’re a millionaire,” Ian said.  “Is that true?”

“Um,” James hedged.

“Only I thought millionaires lived in fancy houses and had people to cook for them,” Ian continued conversationally.  “I didn’t think they knew how to make raviolis.”

“Well, this one does,” James said, arching an eyebrow.

“I like your type of millionaire,” the boy said, concentrating as he sealed another ravioli.  “Mister Saunders said Mummy and me weren’t fit to look at the upper class, but you don’t seem to mind.”

James destroyed a ravioli as his hand clenched involuntarily.  He picked up a towel to wipe off the cheese filling and swore, once again, that he’d hit _Mister Saunders_ if he ever saw him again.

“He said we were...what was that word, the people who couldn’t vote in Rome?”

“The proletariat?” James asked, teeth clenching.

“Yeah, he said we were them,” Ian said.  “And that it was a shame Mummy’s choices meant I’d have to waste my intelligence.  Is that true?”

“Absolutely not,” James said, turning the little boy to look at him.  “Mister Saunders was a...a small minded man with no idea what it means to have any class, or he wouldn’t have treated you that way.  The only way your mind is a waste is if you don’t use it, and you will.  And your _mum_ is an amazing woman, and Mister Saunders knew nothing about her choices, and apparently never cared to ask.  He made assumptions based on nothing, and treated you horribly for no reason other than his own disgusting pretentiousness and need to look down on someone.  You, and your mum, you’re worth ten of him, do you understand me?”

Ian nodded, eyes wide.  “Is that why we’re making birthday dinner for Mummy?  ‘Cause she’s amazing?”

“Yes,” James said, putting his hand on the boy’s cheek.  “And you’re doing it ‘cause you’re amazing too.”

Ian grinned and turned happily back to his work, chattering away, while James took some time stewing.  Rose had to have been desperate for a tutor if she’d chosen Saunders; good resume and recommendation or not, he’d seen how she was in interviews, and she wouldn’t have allowed that rat anywhere near Ian if she’d had other options.  However, James was coming to the realization that there was far more said to Ian than the boy had told Rose, given his fierce protectiveness of her; he had no doubt that Saunders would have been fired long before James had shown up if she’d known all of it, desperation aside.  He quickly decided that he wouldn’t tell her about this particular conversation, as it would only upset her needlessly, but it still annoyed him.  She’d gone through far too much and worked too hard to be treated like that by anyone, much less someone in her employ.  Her smiling face swam in his mind, and he got another jolt of irritation that anyone should be allowed to take that from her.

Eventually, Ian’s happy chatter seeped into James’ consciousness again, and he relaxed a bit, focusing again on the dinner they were making instead of the man he’d replaced.  They made quick work of the remaining raviolis, and James put them in the fridge before pulling out the cake mix.  Ian watched in awe as James cracked the eggs with one hand, and James smiled at the look of intense concentration on the little boy’s face as he operated the electric mixer, tongue poking out of his mouth just a bit. 

Once they finished the cake and got it into the oven, they quickly set to work cleaning up the mess of flour and dough and chocolate batter that seemed to cover every inch of the kitchen.  When they were done, James ran a critical eye over Ian—the flour in his hair and the smudges of cake batter over his cheek and nose—declared that a bath was in order before Rose returned.

After that, it was just a matter of waiting.  The raviolis went into boiling water, the cake cooled, and James used the one cheat he’d allowed and heated up a jar of pasta sauce.  Ian was happily licking the frosting left on a rubber spatula while James set plates on the table when Rose walked in the door.

“Let me tell you, some people should just not be allowed near a color palette,” she said as she came in, dropping her bag and hanging up her coat.  “They tell you it should be more blue until it’s completely, without a doubt, as blue as it can get—and then they tell you it’s too blue.  Honestly.”  She froze when she saw the set table and her son standing proudly in front of it, holding the vase of flowers.  “What’s all this?”

“Happy birthday, Mummy,” Ian said, smiling wide.

Rose stared at him for a moment, then looked to James where he was leaning against the kitchen door frame, her mouth falling open a little.  “I…wow.”

“I made you dinner,” Ian said as she stepped closer and took the flowers from him, a slightly confused smile on her face as she looked them over.  “And a cake!  Oh, and James helped.”

“Well, that was…nice of him,” she said, sounding a little breathless.  She leaned over and set the flowers on the table, her fingers trailing over the soft, bright petals for a moment.  James watched her closely, wondering now if he’d done the right thing.  He always ran full tilt at a problem, regardless of the consequences, and Rose not being able to enjoy her birthday _was_ a problem for him.  He held his breath when she looked down at the pasta arranged somewhat artistically on their plates, her hand going to the top of Ian’s head as he hugged her thigh, then looked up at James.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice a little thick.

“I know,” he said with a shrug, smiling a little as he began to breathe again.  “Happy birthday.  There’s cake in the kitchen when you’re done.”

“When…when we’re done?” she asked, again looking confused as he stepped past her toward the door.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for his jacket before turning back to her.  “You know, done eating.  Oh, there’s more ravioli in the kitchen too, if you want seconds.  Truth be told, you might have enough for a few days…we might have gone a bit overboard,” he added, flashing a grin at Ian.

“No, but, you’re not staying?” she asked.

“Why would I?” he asked, brows furrowing as he shrugged into his jacket.  “It’s _your_ birthday.  Enjoy your dinner.”

“But you went to all this work,” she said, glancing back at the table.

“I helped!” Ian chimed in.

“Yes, you did,” James said with a grin.  “Time to enjoy the fruit of your labor.  Have a good night, Rose.”

He turned and opened the door, but stopped when she walked over to him and shut it again.  He gave her a questioning glance, and she took hold of one of his hands.

“Please stay,” she said quietly, and he saw it in her eyes, the tiniest break in her defenses, just like the week before when she’d been talking about John.  She recovered quickly, adding, “We certainly can’t eat all this ourselves, and it’d be a pity for all your hard work to go to waste.”

“Yeah, stay, James,” Ian said, not to be forgotten.  “Then we can have cake!”

“Alright,” James agreed finally, glancing at Ian, but looking at Rose when he said it, squeezing her hands just before she withdrew them.  “Wouldn’t mind some Italian myself.  Hey, that’s what we had for lunch the day we met,” he added to Ian, shrugging out of his jacket once more and hanging it up.

oOoOo

Despite the uncertain start, dinner went smoothly.  Rose talked more animatedly than usual about work and some of her…less than easygoing clients, and some of her stories had James laughing so hard he choked.  For his part, he told some outlandish tales from his travels, Rose and Ian trying to guess which stories were true and which ones he was making up on the spot.  Rose shot James a glance, eyes dancing, when Ian started telling her about the trees and plants that they’d been talking about in science.  Rose complimented them both on the dinner and cake, and gave Ian a hug and thank you for the homemade card that they’d just managed to squeeze in time for.

Afterwards, James took advantage of the fact that he was still there and set to work on the dishes, intent that the birthday girl be free to relax with Ian.  Rose, however, had other plans.

“Rose, no,” James said, trying to tug the drying cloth away from her when she stepped next to him.  “Let me clean up.”

“You’ve done a ridiculous amount already,” Rose insisted, keeping a firm grip on the cloth.  “It’s not going to hurt me to dry a few dishes.”

“You’re not going to let go, are you?” he asked after another few seconds of ineffectual tugging.

“Nope,” she said, beaming, and he sighed before dropping it and turning back to the sink.

“You’re very stubborn, you know that?” he asked, handing her a dish.

“So are you,” she retorted.

“I am not _stubborn_ ,” he said, frowning.  “How on earth did you come to that conclusion?”

“You completely barrel through any resistance until you come the solution you desire,” she said, almost sounding like she was quoting someone, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  Probably something else he could blame on Jack.  “What would you call that?”

“Determined,” he said easily, and ignored her snort as he cleaned another plate.  “Why don’t you like to celebrate your birthday?” he asked, handing the clean plate to her.

She shrugged, wiping the plate off slowly, then sighed.  “Honestly?  The last time anyone tried…it was just a couple of months after…”

“John,” he said softly, mentally kicking himself for not having realized sooner.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she said with a shrug, putting the plate back in the cupboard.  “Jack tried, I think in an attempt to cheer me up, but all I could see was the person who _wasn’t_ there, and never would be again…I burst into tears and locked myself in my room.  He sent home the few people who’d showed up, mostly the Torchwood team, then stayed to take care of Ian the rest of the night.  We never talked about it…but he never tried to celebrate my birthday again.”

“But…this…was okay?” he asked hesitantly, keeping his eyes focused on the dish in his hand.  This was the most Rose had said about herself in one go since he’d met her, and he wasn’t about to interrupt the flow.  If that meant at least pretending to be distracted, so be it.

“Yeah,” she said, toying with the cloth.  “It was…easier, with just you and Ian.  Didn’t really feel like you…”

He waited for a beat, but she didn’t continue, instead picking at a loose thread on the cloth and biting her lip.  “Didn’t feel like I…what?”

“Expected anything of me,” she said finally, shrugging a little.  “After all, you weren’t even planning to stay.”

“Yeah,” he said, frowning a little.  “Why’d you ask me to?  Not that I’m not delighted, it was fun.  But…why?”

“Well…besides having gone to all this trouble and making me feel enormously guilty if you didn’t get to at least enjoy it,” she said, smiling a little.  Then she paused as she took the dish from him, drying it methodically.  “I don’t know.  You were a buffer, I suppose.  Which sounds awful of me.  But it’s…I dunno, simpler.  You…keep keep Ian entertained if I need a minute, and you always seem to know how to…distract me from my blues.  Look at the other day, when you stayed for…what…four cups of tea?”

He nodded a little, remembering how tired and burnt out she’d seemed when she’d gotten home.  One of those days when nothing went right, from spilling a drink on her shirt to a late bus to a disappointed client.  He also remembered kicking himself, reminding himself that getting even closer to her _now_ was just a recipe for disaster, but he hadn’t been able to pull himself away until he’d seen her smile again.

It took him a minute to realize she was talking, and that he’d completely zoned out on a conversation for the second time that day.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, blinking.

“Um,” she said, then worried her lip for a moment before taking a deep breath.  “I…um…I said I…stopped looking for tutors.”

James suddenly felt light headed.  Of course, this conversation had to happen, of _course_ it did, and it was probably better that she started it.  But not tonight…not _now_.  He swallowed hard, pushing the thought away.  If she wanted this done now, he wasn’t going to try to stop her.

“I noticed,” he managed lamely.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, laying down the towel, and he picked it up, drying off his hands before finally turned from the sink, burying his hands in his pockets while he waited for her explanation.  “It’s just…god, you’re so good with him, and he’s so happy, and I’m…well.  It’s just all been so much more…comfortable, knowing he’s here with you, and you actually _like_ him, and know how to handle his…everything.  And it’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, that I dragged it out, but you were so kind…and I took complete advantage of you.  I…I tried to write all this out last night, but it just didn’t seem to…come out right.  It’s still not, to be honest, but I had to say _something._ If you want to leave, if you never want to hear from us again, I completely understand.  I’ll find someone, I’m sure I’ve still got Mister Roberts’ phone number here somewhere, but even if not him, I’ll find someone.  I just...I couldn’t keep pretending that this was something...less temporary.  It wasn’t fair.”

 _Two weeks_ , he thought.  _I’ll give you two weeks, really two weeks, and then I’m leaving.  No extensions, no excuses, no regrets.  Better that way, for everyone._

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, and his own shock was mirrored in Rose’s eyes.  Where the hell had that come from?  Of course he was leaving.  That’s what he did.  Leave, travel, explore.  But apparently his mouth had acted without any intervention from his brain, which was now working in overdrive to find a way to salvage the situation.

“Really?” Rose asked, unaware of his mental struggle as a hesitant smile came to her lips.  “You’re…you’re staying?”

“I…yeah,” he said, giving up.  He just couldn’t see either of them go through that again, the interviews or someone like Saunders.  For the moment, at least, the best way to avoid that was to stay.  Not forever, but…  “I haven’t really got anywhere I need to be right now, and…and Gramps isn’t getting younger, and Donna’s got that new boyfriend to watch out for,” he added in a burst of inspiration.  That was probably completely true, too...if unconscious.  So unconscious he hadn’t considered it until _after_ saying he’d stay.  Bollucks.

“That’s…that’s great,” she said, her smile now a full blown grin that he couldn’t help returning.  It faltered and died a moment later, though, and he frowned in confusion.  “Just…when you do leave.  Just promise you’ll give me some notice, not just…fly away in the night, yeah?  I…he’s had enough people leave.  I need…to be able to give him that much.”

“ _He_ has?” James asked softly, and Rose looked away, swallowing hard.  And there it was, that chink in her armor, that view of the vulnerable woman hiding her wounds behind a facade of strength.  He reached up, putting his hand against her cheek, and her eyes flew to his.  “I promise,” he murmured.

He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment.  When they opened, he could swear there was something else there, some spark that hadn’t been there before—

“James?” Ian asked, and they jumped apart as the little boy walked into the kitchen.  “Can you stay ‘til bedtime?  I wanna finish the story, and you do the best voices.”

“I thought I did the best voices,” Rose said indignantly, but James could swear her voice sounded a little shaky.

“But _Mummy_ ,” Ian said, eyes wide.  “James does the best dragon growl _ever_.”

“Tell you what,” James said.  “How about we both read it?  I’ll do the dragons and the knights, and Mummy can do—“

“Seriously?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.  “I’m gonna get saddled with the princesses and the serving girls while you get the dragons and knights?”

“Ah, but in this story, the knights are a bit silly and useless, while the princess is the hero,” he said.

“Oh…I suppose that’s alright then,” she allowed, and he grinned.  “As long as you don’t mind?”

Her eyebrows were raised in question, but he paused, searching her face for a second.  Whatever might have been there was clearly gone...probably just his imagination, some leftover emotional shrapnel of her vulnerability and his surprise promise to stay.  He shook his head to clear it, then smiled at the expectant looking pair.

“Of course I don’t mind.”

oOoOo

After James and Rose finished cleaning up, Ian decided that a movie was necessary to complete the birthday celebration, and would accept no argument.  They’d ended up watching The Muppets—despite Rose’s protests that Ian watched that one all the time, the little boy would not be dissuaded once James said that it was his favorite.  By the end though, the day was wearing on the little boy, and after getting changed and tucked in, he only managed to stay awake for a few pages of the story, no matter how great James and Rose were at voicing the characters.

“I want to thank you,” Rose said, leaning on the open door with her hand on the handle as he turned, pausing on the balcony outside her flat.  “For tonight.  It was nice to…actually enjoy my birthday again.  So thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said with a soft smile, bringing his hand up to her cheek.  “You deserve it.”

This time, when his thumb caressed her cheekbone, there was no denying the slight tingle in the air.  His gaze was drawn down to her mouth as her breath hitched slightly, her lips parting a little. He glanced back up at her eyes, opened wide and watching him, and he lowered his head, brushing his lips over hers lightly.  She leaned in ever so slightly, and he came back for a second pass, more deliberate but still chaste, simply savoring the feel of her lips beneath his own.

It only lasted for few seconds before her hand came up to his chest, pushing him away gently but firmly.  He broke away, looking down at her.

“I…I can’t,” she said, sounding slightly breathless and looking like a spooked deer.  “I just…I…I mean, you’re my son’s tutor.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, stepping back.

“It…it just wouldn’t be appropriate,” she said.

“Yeah, obviously,” he replied, nodding quickly and swallowing hard.  “Right.  I should…um…”  He trailed off, nodding toward the stairs leading down to the car park.

“Yeah,” she said, looking down.

“Have a good night, Rose,” he said softly, smiling when she looked back up at him.  “And happy birthday.”

She smiled at him, that ridiculously attractive tongue touched smile.  “Good night, James.”

She closed the door as he turned to go, and he walked slowly down the stairs and across the car park to his car, his thoughts swimming and the taste of her still on his lips.  Once inside his car, he turned over the ignition and sat still for a moment before letting his forehead fall onto the steering wheel with a groan.

“That…is remarkably inconvenient,” he muttered darkly to the empty car.


	11. Battle Lines

When Mummy came home, Ian ran and gave her the usual hug, then returned to his seat to play with his iPad.  James had shown him a new game where he could make sentence trains with words on train cars, for con...conjuctures, or something.  It was fun, but it didn’t give him a lot of words to make sentences with, so he was left with silly things like, “Would you like a dog _or_ a cat?”  But he just rolled his eyes and focused on the way the train would blow its whistle when he made a sentence before leaving the station with its chuga chuga noise.  Besides, Mummy and James always talked _forever_ when she came home now, so at least that gave him something to do.  After a few minutes, though, he looked up with a frown, watching Mummy.  She was always nice to James, they were friends, but now she was being grocery store nice, the stiff way she had with people that talked too much in check out lines.

“Mummy, didn’t you have fun last night?” he asked, wondering if maybe they’d made the raviolis wrong and she just didn’t want to say.

“Of course I did,” she said, sounding surprised.

“You liked the raviolis?” he asked, leaning back and picking at his fingernails.  Mummy said he shouldn’t, but she did it too, and anyway, it was only when he was worried.  “And the cake?”

“I loved them,” she said, coming around the table and crouching down next to him.  She glanced down at his hands, and gently pulled one away to hold it.  “Why’re you suddenly so worried?”

“Cause you’re being grocery store nice to James,” Ian said.  “How come?”

“I’m not--you know, I think I’m just tired,” she said, smiling at him.  Mummy had the most beautiful smile ever, but she did look a little tired, now that she was close.  But Mummy looked tired a lot.  “But you know, that’s why I’m going to stay home tomorrow.”

“You are?” he asked, his eyes widening in excitement, ideas already coming together in his head for things they could do together.

“You are?” James asked, his eyebrows moving close together.

“Yeah,” she said, standing up again and ruffling Ian’s hair.  “I don’t have much going on at the office just now, and what I’ve got can be done from here.  Think I need a mental health day.  So, I guess we’ll see you Monday, then?” she asked James.  Her smile still seemed a little wrong when she looked at James, but it didn’t matter now.  She’d be better on Monday, after they spent the weekend having fun together.

“See you Monday, James,” Ian said, smiling at his tutor before turning back to Mummy.  “Can we go see a film?  Can we got to the park?  Can we get chips and ice cream again?  Can we--”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Mummy laughed.

“Well...I’ll just be going then,” James said, and Ian frowned again.  He almost sounded...sad.  “Have a good weekend, you two.”

It wasn’t til he was almost at the door that Ian thought of something, and scooted off his chair to run after James, hugging him around the knees.

“Don’t worry, James,” he said.  “I promise I won’t finish the King Arthur story without you.”

“You swear?” James asked, smiling as a hand ruffled his hair a little.

“I swear,” Ian replied seriously.

“That’s alright, then,” the tutor said with a wink, then looked back at Mummy for a second before shaking his head.  “I’ll see you and King Arthur on Monday.”

oOoOo

By Monday, Rose was feeling better about the whole...kiss...thing.  It was just a kiss, nothing to freak out about.  It was her birthday, after all.  And with the talk about James staying, well, everything had been a bit...emotional.  But it was just a kiss.  He clearly had no problems displaying affection, it was probably some extension of that.  Probably something that happened to him often; that would make sense, the way he could charm his way around anything.  So it was just a matter of redrawing the line more clearly.  That was all.

And doing it in a way that her over-observant son wouldn’t call undue attention to.

She thought she was pulling it off rather nicely when she got home from work.  James was leaning on the table, hands buried in his pockets, when Ian dragged Rose over to tell her about the new chapter they’d started in his book about King Arthur.  She stood by his chair as he scrambled onto it, and carefully positioned herself so that her body language was friendly and said that James was included in the conversation, but far enough that the little touches he was so fond of would be impossible without being awkward.  Drawing lines.  She could do this, this was easy.

“Are you okay?” James asked when Ian paused for breath.

“Fine,” she said, giving him a tight smile.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His head tilted a little as he studied her, and she got that unnerving feeling that he was seeing a whole lot that she wasn’t saying.  She started picking at her nails absently, and James’ eyes narrowed when he caught the movement.

“Uh huh.  Listen, Ian, why don’t you read that chapter on your own for a bit?” James suggested, taking Rose’s arm and steering her into the kitchen.  “Your mum and I are just going to get some tea.”

“No, really, I’m--”

“Tea,” he repeated, pushing her lightly and shutting the door behind them.  He let go of her and crossed his arms, studying her for a moment.  “Rose, this has to stop.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking away as she moved to get mugs out of the cupboard.  He wanted tea?  Fine.  They’d have tea.  _Just_ tea.

“This,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm, and she flinched away before she could stop herself.  “The constant tension, the feeling of walking on eggshells.  It’s my fault, I get it.  I’m sorry, honestly, about the kiss.  It was just--”

“Just a kiss,” she said, nodding, feeling better that at least the air was being cleared.

“What?” he asked, confused by her interruption.

“It was just a kiss,” she said, turning away again to fill the kettle, and he stepped out of her way as she set it on the stovetop.  “It didn’t really mean anything.”

“I...no, that’s not--”

“I guess it’s probably just something you do,” she said, facing him once more and leaning back against the counter.

“Something I _do_?” he asked, now looking curious.

“Well, yeah,” she said with a shrug.  “All that...travelling.  Expect it’s probably something that just sort of...happens with most women that cross your path.”

“Woman in every port, sort of thing,” he remarked, nodding.

“Yeah, suppose,” she said, looking down and wiping non-existent crumbs away.

“Do you really think that’s me?” he asked, his voice low, and she raised her eyes to his face again.  “Some sort of...international ladies man?”

Rose shrugged.  “Well...why wouldn’t you be?  I mean, you’re young, rich, handsome--”

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, smiling a little as his tongue ran over his top teeth.

“I’m sure some people think so,” she said dismissively, keeping her eyes trained on his face and _not_ down his lean figure, though that wasn’t much help.  “But I’m sure you’ve got women throwing themselves at you.”

James snorted and moved to her side, crossing his arms and ankles as he leaned against the counter next to her.  “That doesn’t mean I want to catch them.  And really, not as many as _you’d_ apparently think.”

“Liar,” she accused, but she smiled, relaxing in spite of herself.

“Really?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.  “Rose Smith, I will have you know...without any incredible amount of pride until this very moment...that apart from a few random one-off dates spaced depressingly far apart, I’ve maintained all of two separate long-term relationships.  Not at the same time, obviously.  Different times.  Different people.  _Point is_ , not a ladies man.  Although, you’re not the first to believe I’d be easily done in by a pretty face as of late,” he added thoughtfully, eyes narrowing a little.

“Who else said that?” she asked.

He was quiet for a moment, lost in his thoughts, then looked down at her and shook his head, as if to clear it.  “Nevermind.  Wrong anyway.  So, have I proven myself?”

“Who were they?” Rose asked.  He hadn’t really needed to prove himself to begin with, he didn’t owe her anything…but now she was curious.  And trying hard to ignore the little thrill she got at finding out that he wasn’t, in fact, a global Casanova.

“Who?” he asked, frowning.

“The ‘long-term relationships’,” she said, pitching her voice lower for dramatic effect and forming air quotes with her hands.  “How do you even manage that, the way you travel?”

“Oh,” he said.  “Um.  They both traveled with me, for a time.  There was Romana, that was…good lord, more than ten years ago now.  We were together two years.  Then she decided to stick around here, go into politics.  She’s brilliant…we still keep in touch.”

“Hold on...Romana _Voratre_?” Rose asked, stunned.  “The MP?”

“Mhm,” James said, nodding.  “That’s her.  Like I said, she’s brilliant.”

“I’ll say,” Rose breathed, thinking of the outspoken female MP that often made the Daily Mail.  “What about the other one?  Vice President in America, Prime Minister of Canada?  President of France?”

“Mmm...no,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.  Rose stared at him curiously...James didn’t often show discomfort, about anything.  “That was Charley.  She’s in medical research.”

“Still keep in touch with her too?” Rose asked, nudging him with her shoulder.

“No,” he said shortly.  He glanced at her, then took a deep breath and seemed to lock away whatever it was about this _Charley_ that made him so uneasy.  “Anyway, doesn’t matter,” he said, pushing off the counter and facing her again, and her stomach flipped when he leaned in close to her.  “The fact is, Rose Smith...when I kiss someone, I mean it.”

Then he was stepping back, mugs in hand, retrieved from the counter behind her, and she was blinking at the sudden absence.  Not that he should have been standing so close anyway...not that she liked it.  It was definitely over her hastily redrawn lines to have his face within inches of her own--

“But I am sorry,” he said as he poured water into both mugs and she blinked as he set them aside to steep.  “Not really for the kiss.  Maybe the timing.  But I’m really sorry it made you all...stressed and jumpy.  You’re right, it was inappropriate.  It won’t happen again.  No matter how handsome you think I am.”

She rolled her eyes as he held out a mug, but studied him thoughtfully for a moment.  Apart from the kiss, she really had enjoyed her birthday, which was a nice change, and a large part of that was because of the odd friendship she’d forged with James.  And…if she was honest…she hadn’t exactly…disliked the kiss, either.  It just wasn’t a good idea.  Still…maybe the lines didn’t have to be _that_ restrictive.

“See that it doesn’t,” she said firmly, then took the mug and walked out, ignoring the smirk and arched eyebrow on the tutor’s face…but she was smiling as she brought the mug to her lips.


	12. Beginning to be a Habit

Two days later, Rose was fighting with photoshop in her office when her mobile buzzed.  She grabbed it blindly and held it for a second before tearing her eyes away from the computer screen and down to her phone, but got a wave of apprehension when she saw a text from James.  He usually only texted her if he decided on short notice to take Ian somewhere, but it was already mid-afternoon, so that was unlikely.  If something bad happened, Ian acting poorly or anything, James usually waited until she got home to talk to her about it, and even that had only happened a couple of times.  But there was first time for everything.  She took a breath to steel herself and opened the message.

_-You mind if I stay for dinner?  I’ll cook._

Rose let out a breathless laugh as she looked down at the text, then leaned back in her chair, chewing on a nail.  It probably wasn’t a good idea to let him stay, after what had happened last week.  She was still trying to reassemble the barricades.  But it had been fun, before...the thing.  She typed a reply quickly to buy herself some time while she considered it.

_-Ian begging?  Or your family on your nerves?_

_-Did you consider the possibility that I simply enjoy the company of you and your son?_

_-…_

_-Alright, both.  But my point is still valid._

Rose laughed again when she saw his reply, imagining his his versatile eyebrows raised to his hairline, lips twitching as he tried not to smile.  He had said he wouldn’t try anything like that again ( _Which is good,_ she added to herself sternly), and he _was_ offering to cook, and she’d probably never hear the end of it if Ian knew that she’d refused his precious James anything.  She sighed and gave up.

_-Fine by me.  What are you making?_

_-Good question._

_-James Noble doesn’t have a PLAN?_

_-James Noble didn’t think he’d get this far.  Onion crusted chicken, couscous, and...dunno, a vegetable._

_-So long as it’s not broccoli._

_-That’s a bit harsh.  What’s broccoli ever done to you?_

_-Tasted disgusting._

_-Hardly the broccoli’s fault.  It is as god intended._

_-Are you really going to start a moral debate in defence of broccoli?_

_-Tempting, but no.  I also won’t make it.  Should I assume that green beans are likewise worthy only of your scorn?_

_-I love green beans._

_-There we are then.  Glad to know it’s not a hue-ist agenda._

_-Course not.  Vegetables of all colors are accepted in my house._

_-Except broccoli._

_-Except broccoli._

_-Gotcha.  Gotta run...Ian’s done with his grammar...probably good, because his tortured moans were beginning to draw attention._

_-He does NOT like grammar.  Give him a kiss for me._

_-Will do.  See you tonight, Rose._

oOoOo

That's how it started.  They had a similar conversation the following week, and the next, until it was just taken as fact that James would be staying for dinner on Wednesday nights.  Ian, of course, was the first to fall into this, asking what they were making rather than whether James was staying.  Rose knew, as she watched her son grow ever closer to his tutor, that this extracurricular time was probably a terrible idea, and would only lead to heartbreak when they were inevitably alone again, but it was so hard to put a stop to something that made him so obviously happy.  And even she had to admit that she enjoyed the nights that James stayed, not the least because coming home to the pleasant cooking smells and dinner on the table once a week was more than a little satisfying.

She was especially thankful for it when, a few weeks later, she had a particularly exhausting day of meetings following a night of nightmare plagued sleep.  They didn’t come every night like they used to, but when they did, they came with a vengeance, and left her feeling wrung out and exhausted.  She couldn’t hide away from Ian, but at least James could pick up her slack if she was a little withdrawn.

So she was looking forward to at least that much as she opened the door to her flat, only to stare in surprise at the unknown elderly gentlemen sitting with her son at the table.

“Mummy!” Ian cried happily, running over to hug her.

“Hey, you,” she said, smiling down at him briefly before looking back toward the table.  “Who...who’s your friend?”

“Sorry, hi,” James said, poking his head from the kitchen.  “This is Wilfred Mott, my grandfather.  I sort of...promised I’d have dinner with him tonight...and then kind of…”

“Forgot about an old man,” Wilfred said cheerfully, and Rose chuckled at James’ eye roll and reddening cheeks.

“I didn’t _forget,_ ” James insisted.  “Just...momentarily...got distracted.”

“Ian does that,” Rose said with a wink as the little boy turned, holding her hands to his chest.

“But can’t Wilf stay for dinner too, Mummy?” Ian asked, looking up at Rose with large, pleading eyes.  “We made roast with potatoes ‘n’ carrots ‘n’ _everything_.”

“If not, it’s fine,” James said quickly, coming into the room fully when she hesitated.  “There’s not really much left to do for the roast, I can take Granddad out and pick up the slow cooker tomorrow.”

“It’s fine,” she said, hating the idea of kicking James out after he made her dinner.  “Really,” she added, intercepting an uncertain look between grandfather and grandson.  “The more the merrier, right?  Anything I can do?”

Ian quickly squealed with delight and ran back to Wilf while Rose followed James into the kitchen.

“Honestly, there’s not much to do,” James said.  “It’s been cooking for six hours, should be about ready, all I’ve got to do is carve it and put the vegetables in a serving bowl.”

“Well, I can do the veggies if you want,” she said, looking into the pot as he lifted the lid.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said, closing the lid again.  He turned back to the counter for a bottle of wine, pouring her a glass before turning back and handing it to her.  “How about you sit down and destress for a moment while I handle it?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly.

“Your eyes tell a very different story,” he said softly, raising a hand to her cheek and running a thumb under her eye.  Apparently makeup wasn’t doing the trick to get rid of the dark circles.  Or James was just ridiculously observant.  Probably both.

“You can talk,” she said dismissively, touching the ever present shadows under his own eyes.

“Eh, I’m used to it,” he said, dropping his hand and pulling away.  “Terminal insomniac, me.  Rose, you’re exhausted.  And you have unexpected company.  Please, humor me, and just sit down while I finish this up?”

Rose raised an eyebrow at him, but he only mirrored her expression.  “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’.

“Ugh, fine,” she said, retreating to the little kitchen table with her glass of wine.  When she was settled and took a sip, he nodded and turned back to the pot.  The smell of the roast wafted through the room as he lifted the lid and set it aside, then pulled out the roast and began carving it on a serving platter.

“So is this something you do often?” she asked.  “I assume I am still allowed to speak.”

“You are,” he said without turning around.  “No bonus points for cheekiness, mind.  Is what something I do often?”

“Dinner with Granddad?”

“Oh...no, not especially,” he said, pausing in his work to glance at the door to the other room, then shrugging and returning to his task.  “But tonight Donna’s out with Lee and Mum’s out with mates, and while he’d ordinarily take the opportunity to revel in the silence that would create in the house, he decided we should do something since I’m--”

“Actually in the country still?” she asked, smiling a little.

“Well, yes,” he said.  “Only I completely forgot, and didn’t realize it til he was calling and asking for your address to meet me here.  I really am sorry.”

“And it really is okay,” she assured him, taking another sip of wine.  “Ian seems to have taken to him.”

“Mmm, yeah,” James said, eyeing the roast critically.  “Mind you, he seems to take to _pretty_ much everyone.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said quietly, looking down at her glass and thinking of the bullying that had led to her hiring a private tutor in the first place.  Bullying that apparently had only continued with Ian’s first tutor.

“Let me rephrase that,” James said, stepping closer and holding out a small piece of roast for her to taste.  “He takes to everyone that’s actually nice to him, meaning anyone who’s not a complete prat.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true,” she said, smiling a little as she took the piece of roast from him.  She popped it in her mouth, moaning a little at the taste of it.

“Good?” he asked, smirking and arching an eyebrow.

“Gorgeous,” she said, and he grinned at her before turning back to the pot.  He went into another cabinet with the assurance that one would expect in his own kitchen, and reached up for a serving bowl.  Rose’s head tilted a little as her eyes took in the lean length of him that the view afforded, but looked back up at him quickly when she realized he was speaking.

“Sorry?” she asked.

“Just wondering why you have things up so high when you’re so...erm, not tall,” he said carefully when her eyes narrowed.

“There’s such a thing as chairs, you know,” she said defensively.  She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t really used any of the serving dishes he used regularly for the past five years.  Entertaining wasn’t her strong suit, nor were elaborate meals just for her and Ian.

“Right,” he said, giving her an odd look before moving back to the counter and scooping out vegetables into the bowl.

“Can I at least get drinks sorted?” she asked meekly.

“Ehm...yeah, I suppose I could allow that,” he said thoughtfully, but followed it up with a teasing wink.  “Granddad, fizzy drink or wine?”

“Fizzy, please,” Wilf called back.

“I’ll have a fizzy drink, too,” Ian called.

“Nice try,” Rose said as she and James exchanged a grin.  “You can have milk.  What about you?  Wine?”

“Please,” he said, licking a dollop of sauce from the roast of his thumb.  She stared at him for a moment before shaking herself and turning to the icebox for milk and Coke.

She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her.  James had been true to his word and kept things strictly platonic, although she’d learned that there were certain definitions of platonic that they clearly differed on, given the amount of touching he just couldn’t seem to keep himself from.  To be fair, he was the same way with Ian, tousling his hair or putting a hand on his back, and often letting the little boy cuddle between them if they watched films together.  It was just so distracting, the little touches on her arm or back, or occasionally her cheek.

 _Hormones_ , she decided, pouring drinks.  _Must be.  Or just haven’t had any good friends in too long.  Haven’t been around enough men that aren’t Jack.  Yeah, that’ll be it.  Just not used to it.  Just friends._

This pep talk didn’t stop her from jumping and letting out a surprised squeak when James touched her back as he reached around her for his glass.

“You alright?” he asked with a frown.

“Fine,” she said, for what felt like the hundredth time that night.  “Uhm, you wanna take yours and Wilf’s?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes raking over her face.  He put a hand on her arm, his thumb moving in a gentle caress.  “You sure you’re alright?”

“Just tired, like you said,” she told him, pasting on a bright smile as she grabbed Ian’s milk and her wine, taking a large swallow as she headed into the other room with them.

oOoOo

Dinner was a lighthearted affair, with Wilf keeping Ian and Rose in stitches with stories of James’ younger days.  James handled it cheerfully and with grace, adding in a few stories he’d learned from his now departed gran about Wilf, adding that there were plenty more that weren’t age appropriate.  There was only a slight falter in the conversation, toward the end, when Wilf told a story that included Donna, and Ian said he wished he could have a brother or sister to play with.

“Nah,” James said, clearing the table.  “Donna always just stole my toys.  Still does, sometimes.”

“But wasn’t it fun to have someone around?” Ian insisted.

“But then, you don’t cause your mum all the headaches that Donna and James used to with their fighting,” Wilf pointed out.  “Those two could go at it for days when they had a mind to.”

“Lies and slander.  Mostly.  But you’ve always got someone around too,” James added.  “There’s me, you mum, your uncle Jack.  And you don’t have to share us.”

“That’s true,” Ian said, looking thoughtful.  “Okay, Mummy.  I suppose I don’t need a brother or sister.”

“Good to know,” Rose said, a little breathlessly, as Wilf and James gave her matching winks.

The conversation moved on from there, but Rose stayed quiet as she helped James clear the table and wash the dishes.  The mention of siblings made Rose remember the talks her and John had been having about more children just before he died, which then brought her mind back to the nightmares the night before.  It was always the same, always a loop of those last moments, the blood--

“Rose?” James’ voice cut into her thoughts, and she blinked and looked up at him.  “I know Ian wanted us to stay for a film, but Granddad and I can go if you’re tired.”

“No, it’s...it’s fine,” she said.  “I just...it’s been five years, you know?” she asked suddenly.  “I’d just like to go one day, just one, without being blindsided by some reminder of what I...what _we_ lost, what we’ve missed out on, and I just--”

She sighed, raking her hands through her hair and leaning against the counter wearily.

“Why couldn’t you sleep last night?” James asked quietly, and she looked up to see him studying her.

“Bad dreams,” she said with a shrug.

“About John?” he asked shrewdly, and she nodded a little.  “And then that conversation…Oh, Rose.  I’m sorry.”

“S’not your fault,” she said, shrugging again and picking at her nails.  “Some days are just harder than others, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said.  He watched her for a few seconds, then stepped closer and put his arms around her.  She stiffened slightly, but then sank into the hug gratefully, sliding her arms around to his back as he stroked her hair gently.  “Can you...try to do me a favor?” he asked after a moment.

“Depends what it is,” she said warily, pulling back a little to look up at him.

“It’s not difficult,” he said.  “But it might not be something you think to do naturally.”

“Thanks, that’s clear as mud,” she said with an eyeroll, acutely aware that his arms were still around her.

“It’s just...well, you know I don’t really sleep much?”  She nodded slowly, still on guard.  “I’d just like it if…if you have bad dreams like that, and you want to talk ever, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

He was right, that’s not something she would do.  Ever.  It wouldn’t really change anything to drag other people down with her misery, and it wasn’t their problem to deal with.  But then there was James, watching her with his huge brown eyes full of warmth and sincerity, who seemed to go out of his way to do things for her and Ian simply because he could.  Even with Jack, there was that knowledge somewhere that part of the reason he was still around was what he felt was his duty to John.  James didn’t have any underlying reason to offer anything, and that simultaneously thrilled her and scared her to death.

“I’ll...think about it,” she said carefully, and he nodded, rubbing his hands over her arms gently as he stepped back.  “We should probably get back out there,” she added, forcing a bit more cheer into her voice.

“Mmm, probably,” James nodded, releasing her completely.  “Otherwise they’ll pick the film without us.”

“Can’t be worse than the unending ‘Marathon of Muppets’,” Rose said with a grin, her tongue wandering over her top teeth.

“That’s blasphemy, Rose Smith,” James said, taking her hand and pulling her into the other room.


	13. Definitely Not a Date

“You know, I’m hurt.”

James looked up from the engine of his car as Donna took a seat on the steps of the house, holding out a bottle of lager to him.  He straightened and wiped the oil from his hands before taking the bottle and leaning against the car.

“Dare I ask why?”

Donna took a pull from her own bottle and pouted at him.  “Granddad got to meet this new love of your life before I did.”

“Ian’s a bit young for anything like that,” James said, tilting his head and pulling a face.

“Har har,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically.  “You know, it’s astonishing that wit hasn’t gotten you in films.”

“A tragedy,” he agreed, bringing the lager to his lips.

“Granddad said she was sweet,” Donna persisted, and James rolled his eyes with a groan.

“Donna, Rose is not ‘the new love of my life’,” he told her, putting the bottle on the roof of the car and turning back to the engine.  “Not now, not ever.”

“S’not what Granddad said,” Donna countered with a shrug as he picked up a ratchet and set to work again.  “ _He_ said he hasn’t seen you look at anyone like that since--”

“Don’t,” James interrupted sharply, shooting a warning glare at her over his shoulder.

Donna looked back at him sadly.  “It’d just be nice to see you happy with someone again.  It’s been years--”

“Two years!” he cried in exasperation, throwing the ratchet down as he faced his sister.  “That’s barely multiple!”

“Still,” she continued, unperturbed.

“Still nothing,” he said, before she could get out whatever other argument she was planning.  “If I somehow find myself in a relationship again in the near future, it won’t be with Rose.  That’s already been stated with abundant clarity.”

“What?” Donna demanded, and James winced as he spun back to his car.

“Nothing,” he muttered.  “Just drop it, Donna.”

“Oh, no,” Donna said, standing and walking over to the car.  “You can’t say that and not elaborate.  C’mon, little brother; spill it.”

He paused, looking up at her.  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Donna hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it, then shook her head.  “Sorry, no.”

James sighed, straightening again and reaching for his beer before leaning on the car next to his sister.  “I kissed her.”

“I knew it!” Donna cried triumphantly.  “You _do_ like her!”

“Yes, alright, I like her,” he replied, running a frustrated hand through his hair.  “A lot.  But it doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?” she asked.  “What happened after you kissed her?”

James took another pull from his lager and shrugged.  “Nothing.  She pushed me away, said she couldn’t, that it wouldn’t be appropriate since I’m Ian’s tutor, and I left.  End of story.”

“When was this?”

“A few weeks ago.”  He eyed the calculating look on Donna’s face with trepidation, having learned to fear and respect her meddling skills long ago.  “Her birthday.”

“That’s when you started having dinner over there all the time, yeah?” she asked.

“Once a week is hardly ‘all the time’,” James pointed out, rolling his eyes.  “And nothing else has happened.”

“Did she pull back straight away?”

“Yes,” he said.  “Well...I mean, not immediately.  But it was only a few seconds, max.”

“You have to try again,” Donna ordered.

“Try _what_?” he asked.  “There’s nothing to _try_.  She’s right, it’s completely inappropriate.”

“But you _do_ like her,” Donna said.

“Well, yes, but--”

“And she likes you,”

“What?  No, she--”

“She does, at least a little,” Donna said again.  “You probably wouldn’t have been able to kiss her at all, much less for more than a second, maybe two.”

“I dunno, Donna,” James said, shaking his head a little.

“One date,” Donna said.  “Take her out, show her the sights--”

“What sights?” he asked, laughing at the absurdity of it.  “She’s lived here her whole life!”

“I dunno, something!” Donna insisted.  “A show, or something.”

“No, that won’t--”  He stopped, his mind whirring with sudden inspiration.  “Donna Noble, you are a genius.”  He turned, grabbing his sister and pressing a kiss to her forehead before running inside.

“It’s about time you figured out you’re not the only one who got the brains, Spaceman!” he heard her call after him, and he grinned as he took the stairs at a run.

oOoOo

 _This is such a mistake_ , Rose thought as she eyed her reflection critically.  She was banking on the sleeveless black dress with the asymmetrical hem being classic, since she hadn’t been to the theater since before Ian was born.  She leaned in to check her eye makeup, the conversation from earlier that week running through her mind.

oOoOo

“You know Ian has been reading _The Wizard of Oz,_ yeah?” James asked when Rose walked him to the door Wednesday night.

“Yes,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “Depending on the day, he’s either the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, or the Lion...and let me tell you how fun that is at six thirty in the morning before mum’s had caffeine.”

“Sorry,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, I don’t think you are,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.  “Maybe I should have him call you and roar.  Mind you, it works better with someone who sleeps.”

“Probably,” he agreed.

“Seriously, though, when _do_ you sleep?” she asked.

James tilted his head uncertainly.  “Eh, I usually get a couple hours somewhere between three and six.”

“In a bed?” she asked suspiciously.

“Sometimes,” he said, grinning again.  “But back to what I was saying…”

“Right, _The Wizard of Oz_ ,” Rose said, crossing her arms and leaning against the frame of the open front door.  “What about it?”

“Well, I was thinking of taking him to see _Wicked_ ,” James said carefully.  “In the interest of showing that there’s two sides to every story.  If that’s alright.”

Rose arched an eyebrow at him.  “You’re actually asking?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, looking down quickly.  “And...well, I mean...you could...come too.  If you want.”

“So…like a field trip,” she said slowly.

James tugged on his ear as his gaze shifted, suddenly becoming intensely interested in the top of the door frame.  “Um, yeah.  Suppose, sort of.  Yeah.  Educational and...things.”

“Riiight,” she said, drawing out the word as she studied him.  “You already bought the tickets, didn’t you?”

“That is a distinct possibility,” he admitted, his eyes finally returning to hers with a sheepish smile.

Rose laughed and shook her head, then sighed.  “Yeah, alright.  When is this...field trip scheduled for, then?”

“Saturday night,” he supplied promptly.  “You’ll come?  Really?”

“Sure,” she said, smiling again at his surprised expression, her tongue poking out a little from her teeth.  “What time?”

“The show starts at seven thirty,” he told her.  “But I’m taking you both to dinner first.  So I’ll pick you up around...five?”

“Sounds good,” she said.  “G’night, James.”

“Night, Rose,” he said, reaching forward and squeezing her shoulder lightly.  He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then leaned in and kissed her softly on the cheek.  “See you tomorrow.”

oOoOo

“Mummy, do I _have_ to wear these shoes?” Ian whined, pulling Rose back to the present.  “They pinch,” he added, scrunching up his nose.

“They’re the only nice shoes you have,” Rose said, leaning down to pull on her own black heels.  “It’s just for a few hours, and you’ll be sitting most of that time anyway.”

“I don’t like them,” he said, hopping up on her bed and eyeing the dress shoes critically.  “Can’t I wear my trainers?”

“Ian, you are not wearing shoes with Transformers on them to the theater,” Rose told him sternly.

Ian made a disappointed huff, crossing his arms and pouting.  Rose rolled her eyes and shook her head, picking up her phone as it chimed.

 _-On my way_ , the text from James read.  _You two almost ready?_

 _-Just about_ , she typed as a reply.  _Minus a slight battle of wills._

_-Uh oh.  Something I should be concerned about?_

_-No.  Dress shoes and six year old boys just don’t seem to mix well._

_-Ah.  And mum has vetoed Optimus Prime’s inclusion in the field trip, I take it?_

_-She has.  They’re a bit too small, but he can survive a few hours in them, whether he believes me or not._

_-Probably true.  I have to make a quick stop, you’ll be ready in twenty minutes?_

_-Absolutely, see you then._

“If you hold that face too long, it’ll freeze that way,” Rose warned Ian as she picked up her clutch purse and sheer wrap.

“That’s a lie,” Ian said flatly.  “And, even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t care.”

“Suit yourself,” Rose said with a shrug.  “Not sure if James will continue taking you places if you act like this, though.  I know I wouldn’t.”

“This tie is too tight, too,” he said, apparently bent on whinging as much as possible.

“Your tie is fine,” she said, leaving the room.  “Except that it might be better as a gag,” she muttered to herself as she put some essentials into the clutch.

“What?” Ian called from her bedroom.

“Nothing, love,” she called back, pasting on a brittle grin.

Eighteen minutes after James’ last text, there was a knock on the door.  Ian ran to open it--despite pinching shoes, Rose noted wryly--and James smiled down at him, hands clasped behind his back.

“How come James gets to wear trainers?” Ian demanded before either adult could say anything, and Rose groaned inwardly.

James, in fact, looked the picture of a gentleman, in his brown pinstriped suit under a long brown overcoat.  The image was only slightly marred by the cream-colored converse on his feet, though he still managed to pull it off with a sort of funky geek-chic that Rose found inexplicably annoying.  Could the man make _nothing_ look bad?

“Because James is an adult,” Rose said, pulling on her wrap and picking up her clutch.  “And his trainers don’t have cartoon characters on them.”

“Nothing against the Transformers, mind,” James added quickly.

“And he’s wearing a tie,” Rose pointed out, stepping closer.  “And certainly not complaining.  Though it is a little crooked.”

James’ lips twitched as she reached up for his tie, lifting his chin obligingly.  “All true.  But perhaps a compromise can be found.”

Rose glanced up at him suspiciously, then smoothed her hand down his now straight tie and stepped back.

“I’m listening.”

“Maybe if Emperor Ian could agree not to complain about the tie,” James said slowly, pulling a box from behind his back.  “Some alternative can be found for the footwear.”

He lifted the lid to reveal smaller, Ian sized chucks that matched his own.  Rose smothered a smile as he dipped the box just low enough for Ian’s peering eyes to catch a glimpse before replacing the lid.

“I don’t know…”  Rose trailed off uncertainly, and Ian cast a panicked look between the two adults.

“I promise, Mummy!” he burst out, darting forward to hug her leg.  “I promise no more whinging about the tie.  I promise to wear the tie for a week!”

“I dunno if we have to go that far,” she said, tousling his hair lightly.

“But,” James said, his tone serious as he knelt in front of the boy.  “There’s one more thing you have to do before I can give these to you.”

“Anything,” Ian breathed.

“You have to apologize to your mum,” he replied, glancing up at Rose briefly as she raised her eyebrows in astonishment.  She managed to school her features just before Ian looked up at her.

“I’m sorry for pouting about my pinchy shoes, Mummy,” he said in a small voice.

“Apology accepted,” she choked out.  “Now say thank you to James and go change your shoes.”

“Thank you, James!” he cried, grabbing the shoes and darting into the living room to change them.

“That was slick,” Rose said quietly as James got to his feet.  “ _Had_ to make a stop, eh?”

“It was necessary,” he said with a shrug.  He tilted his head a little, studying her, then took her hand and spun her around.  “Rose, you look beautiful.”

“You clean up rather nice yourself,” she said, using her other hand to finger his lapel lightly.

“Mummy always looks beautiful,” Ian said, once again agreeable as he bounced back into the front hall, and Rose stepped back quickly, pulling her hand from James’.  There was a small voice insisting that the light flirting was only piling bad decisions onto her choice to join them tonight, something that was only more obvious when Ian was present.

“Too right,” James said, a small smile playing on his lips as his brows furrowed earnestly, unperturbed by her retreat.  He waited while Rose helped Ian into a light jacket, then held his arm out for her.  “Shall we, madame?”

He took them for dinner to the Grand Imperial London for dinner, and Ian looked around with wide eyes at the posh surroundings.

“You think you’re so impressive,” she whispered as she took the seat James held out for her.

He pushed in her chair, then leaned down to murmur low in her ear, “I _am_ so impressive.”

Rose prayed to any god listening that he didn’t notice the shiver that went through her, and sent up a silent thanks when Ian suddenly found his voice again, badgering James with questions about Cantonese cuisine and Hong Kong.

The food was, of course, delicious; James insisted on ordering a la carte, and they quickly found their table loaded with a variety of dim sum, fried rice, and aromatic meats.  Rose barely managed to swallow a laugh when a waiter passed by with whole cooked duck, smothered in sauce so it looked almost demonic, and Ian’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, when James was ushering them into the theater, holding Ian’s hand with one of his while the other rested on the small of her back, that a thought occurred to Rose.

“You know,” she said quietly as they made their way through the lobby, “if it wasn’t for the tiny chaperone, this would almost look like a date.”

“Would it?” James asked, eyebrows raised in a look that was a little too innocent to be entirely believable.

“Is the lion going to be in this James?” Ian asked excitedly before Rose could say anything else, and James turned his attention to the boy.

“Wait and see,” he urged, his hand moving up to Rose’s shoulder as he guided them down the aisle to their seats.  Really _fantastic_ seats, Rose noted dubiously.  “But remember, this is Elpheba’s story, not Dorothy’s.”

“But she’s the bad witch,” Ian said with a frown.

“Bad is a...relative term,” James said delicately.

He positioned Ian between himself and Rose, something she was intensely grateful for.  The night was turning out...odd, and her stomach was doing strange flips as a result, flips that felt eerily like thrills.  She didn’t want to think what would happen if she was sitting next to James when the theater went dark.  Much better to have her son as a buffer between them.

At least, it was, until James stretched a long arm across the back of the seats.  Rose sat stiffly, acutely aware of his hand behind her neck, but it didn’t stop the brush of fine wool across her shoulder from his sleeve when he leaned down to say something quietly to Ian.

 _Stop it_ , she told herself sternly as the cacophonous warm-up from the orchestra eased out and the lights dimmed.  _Whatever he might think, this is **not** a date._

But it had been, the last time she was at the theater, years before.  She’d gone with John a few times--always dramas or tragedies.  He’d been a fan of tragic and beautiful operas, saying it was more realistic; if art was going to imitate life, it should imitate loss.  Jack had said that made him sound like a miserable git, but it made a weird sense to Rose.  The thing that touched you was the thing that you could relate to, and the thing that touched him...was pain.  It didn’t mean he was a misery all the time--far from it--it just meant that one of the things that _kept_ him from that, one of the ways he could be happy, was to use the scripted misfortune of hapless characters as an outlet.

But while Rose could understand it, even enjoy it in his company, she tended more toward the musicals and romantic comedies that he regarded with thinly veiled disdain.  They’d both been able to put aside their impatience with the others taste in order to spend time together, so it had never been an issue.  She wasn’t surprised at all, however, to find that James was more of her bent; he was immediately rapt in the show, and his enthusiasm was contagious.  Ian was watching with wide eyes, his mouth open a little as he watched the mousey, green-skinned woman move about the stage and sing her heart out.

Not that she was comparing them, obviously.  John and James were two completely different people, and her relationship with both was vastly different.  It made no sense to compare the husband she’d loved to the tutor she...well, that she was friends with.  A friendship that might be easier if he didn’t have fantastic hair and a long, lean frame and large brown eyes like melted chocolate--

She started when his hand touched his shoulder, and she looked over to him watching her in concern.

“You okay?” he mouthed over Ian’s head.

She swallowed and nodded quickly, giving him a tight smile.  He looked unconvinced, his thumb moving softly over her shoulder as he studied her.

“I’m fine,” she mouthed, leaning back to enforce her point.  He moved his hand to avoid getting between her and the chair, but left it resting lightly on the back of her neck.  The gentle pressure effectively ended her previous musings, but made it difficult to focus on anything else for several minutes.  Eventually, though, she was absorbed into the story of the two witches that she’d always known as the good witch and the wicked witch, and the intrigue and drama of their school days.

Following the show, she was in high spirits, and Ian was bouncing off the walls.  He skipped between them as they left the theater, holding each of their hands, talking a mile a minute about Oz.  James and Rose exchanged a brief glance as a cue, and lifted him in unison, swinging him between them amidst giggles.

James made the executive decision that they needed a banana split to cap off the evening--when she asked why this was necessary, he only looked at her blankly and said “Because bananas are _good_ , Rose.”  Her mood was too good to even pretend to argue, so she only laughed and told him to drive on, shaking her head a little when he winked at her.  They stopped and shared a banana split between the three of them, engaged in a discussion on the relativity of being wicked; also how Elpheba sang really pretty, and green’s not such a bad color.

Despite the ice cream, Ian was starting to wind down when they got back to the car, the late hour and earlier excitement taking a toll on him.  He was quiet as James pulled away from the ice cream parlor, headed for Rose’s flat.

“So just how much did you spend on us tonight?” Rose asked quietly.

“Don’t,” he said, glancing at her.

“I was just asking,” she murmured, shrugging.

“And I’m just saying don’t,” he said, looking at her fully as he rolled to a stop at a light.  “Probably less than you think, definitely less than you deserve.”

Rose looked down as the light changed and James turned back to the road.  “Those were very good seats,” she pointed out eventually, sidestepping the second part of his statement.

“Free,” he said easily, then tilted his head and amended the statement.  “Ish.”

“Ish?”  She squinted at him suspiciously when he glanced at her again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“I make an annual donation to the Ambassador Theater Group,” he told her.  “Which means certain...perks.  Like tickets to shows at their theaters.”

“Really great tickets.”

“Really great tickets,” he agreed, checking for clearance before turning onto another street.

“So you do a lot of...charity things?” she asked.

“Ehm, a fair bit,” he said with a shrug.  “Not really sure how much, to be honest.  The theater group is one I made sure of, plus some education things, but Donna handles most of that for me.”

“Your sister?” Rose asked, and he nodded.  “Your sister is your accountant.”

“Yep.”  He frowned and shook his head.  “Someone had to be.  I’m incredibly, _impossibly_ bad at keeping track of that sort of thing, so much so that my _last_ accountant nearly managed to make off with a decent sum of cash, had Donna not spotted the discrepancy on some balances.”

“Do you even know how much money you have?” she asked.

He fidgeted again in his seat.  “I know a...ballpark.”

Rose stared at him, struck again by how different they were.  Here was a man who’d wanted for nothing since he’d barely been old enough to drink, while she seemed to struggle for everything only to come up short, over and over.

“Must be nice,” she murmured.

James was quiet for a long moment, not talking again until they turned onto her street.  When he did, his voice was low and sincere, sending a warm feeling through her.

“It is when it means I can take a beautiful woman and her son out for a night.”

Rose bit her lip to keep her smile from showing.  “You can’t just say things like that.  Ian’ll get the wrong idea.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” he said, his eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror.

Rose frowned in confusion, looking back at her son, only to find him fast asleep in his booster seat, suit rumpled and tie loose.  She smiled a little, turning in her seat to reach back and stroke his cheek lightly as James pulled into the car park.

“I hate to wake him,” she whispered.

“So don’t,” James said, undoing his seatbelt.  “I’ll carry him.”

Rose opened her mouth to argue, to say something about how Ian wasn’t nearly as light when he was dead weight, but James was already out of the car.  He jogged around the car, opening her door first, then going to the back and opening Ian’s.  He reached around the little boy to undo the seat belt, then pulled Ian up and into his arms.  Ian let out a little sigh as James straightened and adjusted his weight, but otherwise didn’t stir while Rose closed both car doors.

Up at the flat, Rose dropped her clutch and wrap just inside the door.  James stayed and helped her change a half-conscious Ian out of his suit and into his jim-jams, sharing a smile when the little boy claimed sleepily that he’d save Elpheba.  He settled again quickly when they got him into bed, curling into a ball under his covers.  James stroked his hair lightly before turning to leave, and Rose followed him to the door after dropping a kiss on her slumbering son’s head.

“Thank you for...all of this,” she said quietly as James paused at the door.

“It was my pleasure,” he said, reaching a hand up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek lightly.  “Honestly.”

Rose leaned into his touch ever so slightly, and his breath seemed to catch as he watched her.  His thumb moved over cheekbone, and he swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing before he sucked in a breath and dropped his hand, burying both in his trouser pockets.

“Right, well,” he mumbled, coughing awkwardly.  “I should…”  He trailed off, nodding at the door behind him.

“Yeah,” Rose said, nodding a little.  “You know, it’s almost too bad that this wasn’t a date,” she added, mentally kicking herself.

He tilted his head curiously.  “Why’s that?”

“Well...it might have ended differently for you,” she said, making a concentrated effort to keep her tone light and teasing.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice low. 

He didn’t move, didn’t even twitch, except for his eyebrow arching ever so slightly.  But the hint of challenge in it only added to all the little things that had built up over the course of the evening.  Before she was even fully aware of her own intentions, she was grasping the lapels of his suit jacket and pulling him down to press her lips to his.

He froze for an instant, but as soon as the shock wore off, he was closing the distance between them, winding his arms around her to pull her closer.  Rose’s own hands slid up, one arm going around his neck while her other hand went to his head, her fingers running through his thick, silky hair.  He made a low sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding along hers as she opened her mouth.  His arms held her firmly without needing to press her against him, and the perfection of the kiss made her lightheaded--

Until she pulled away abruptly with a gasp, blinking back tears while screaming to herself how _stupid_ she was.  This wasn’t supposed to happen with _anyone_ , much less with her son’s _tutor_.  John might be gone, but he’d taken everything with him, she didn’t want or deserve or need any of it back, and certainly not from someone who always had one foot out the door.  She could and would be fine on her own.  She had to be.

“I can’t,” she choked out.

“Rose,” James murmured, holding out a hand to her, but she stepped back out of reach.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I am.  Tonight was...was lovely, it was.  But I just can’t.”

She looked up at him to see him recoil as if she’d slapped him.  “Is that what that was?  Some way to pay me _back_ for tonight?  To give me what you thought I wanted?”

“James--” she started, without really knowing what she was going to say, how she was going to explain, but he interrupted her.

“Don’t,” he said, backing away as he ran a hand through his hair quickly.  “You know, I dunno what’s worse.  That you’d consider that, or that you think I would.”

Rose shook her head, trying again.  “No, James, it’s not--”

“I should go,” he said, his voice cold as he turned for the door.  He yanked it open, turning back momentarily.  “Thanks, Rose...for a... _lovely_ evening.”

Then, with a swish of his overcoat, he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.  Rose was once again left with only her guilt, wondering how she was going to explain to Ian that his beloved tutor was gone, driven off by his mother and her talent for ending up alone.


	14. One Man Cleanup Crew

_“I’m bullet-proof, nothing to lose, fire away, fire away…”_

Jack woke with a start and squinted at his phone, grabbing it quickly when Rose’s ringtone registered.  She was better than she used to be, but she still generally didn’t call just to chat, and especially not this early in the morning.

“Rosie?” he asked when he answered the call, his voice low and gruff from sleep and his attempts to not wake Ianto.  “Everything alright?”

“I kissed him,” she replied flatly.

Jack ran a hand down his face, trying to process what she said despite the sleep haze still clouding his mind.  “Who?”

“The Pope,” she snapped.  “Yeah, turns out that vow is really more of a suggestion, and he wants to move me and Ian to Italy so that I can be his lover and Ian can shave his head and learn to chant.”

“Oh, you’re cute,” Jack said, looking over at Ianto when he turned and mumbled something in his sleep.  “Hang on.”

Jack slipped out of bed, pulling on his pants and trousers and exiting the room.  It wasn’t until he’d pulled the door closed softly behind him and made his way a few feet down the hall that he put the phone to his ear again.

“So what happened?”

“I told you.”

“ _Before_ that.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked into the kitchen, realizing that a lot of coffee was going to be required for this conversation.  “How’d it even  _get_ to that?”

“He kissed me first,” she said defensively.

“Last night?” he asked, moving the phone to his shoulder as he found the coffee grounds and spooned them into the coffee maker.

“Um…no,” she said.  “That was…before last night.”

He paused, then resumed pouring water into the top of the coffee maker before holding the phone in his hand again.  “How much before?”

“A…few weeks ago?”

“A few—”  Jack took a deep breath, telling himself once again that he needed to keep closer tabs on Rose and Ian, no matter how hard she might try to make it.  “Nevermind.  What happened  _last night_?”

He listened silently as she told him about dinner, and Wicked, repeating several times that it was definitely not a date of any kind.  The coffee finished, and he readied himself a cup, narrowing his eyes at the way her voice got soft when she spoke about the way James had carried Ian up to bed.

“And then we were saying good bye,” she finished off.  “And I just…kissed him.  God, how could I be so  _stupid_?”

Jack took another sip of coffee before answering.  “Would it have been so terrible?”

“What?”

“If it had been a date,” he explained.  “Would that really have been so bad?”

“Jack, he’s Ian’s  _tutor_ ,” she reminded him in a severe tone.  “Of course it would be bad.”

“Is that it?” Jack asked carefully.

“That’s enough,” she said, with a tone a finality.

“John’s gone, Rose,” he said, knowing he was pushing his luck, but not able to help it.  “He’s been gone for five years.”

“Don’t,” Rose snapped.  “This has got nothing to do with that.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, putting his coffee down and gripping the counter.  “Because I know it’s hard—”

“No, you don’t,” she cut in, her voice harsh.  “You haven’t got a clue.  He was your friend, but he was my husband, and you have no idea what it’s like to—just don’t.”

“Okay, alright, fine,” he said, lifting his hand in a placating gesture, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Anyway, doesn’t matter,” she said after a moment, her tone returning mostly to normal.  It still had a distant quality, and Jack sucked in a deep breath to keep from screaming.  “He’s probably long gone now.”

“Wait, what happened after the kiss?”

“I…just can’t,” she said.  “I pushed him away, and he got angry.  Suppose he had the right.  Either way—dunno why I even called,” she finished in a mumble.

“I’m glad you called,” he said fiercely.  “And I’m sure he’s not—”

He was planning to say that he was sure James wasn’t gone, but he remembered the frantic texts from Donna a few months back when James had taken off to France without any apparent cause or any kind of word beforehand.  He’d obviously come back, and from the looks of things, Rose had never been the wiser, but he hadn’t told Donna what it had been about, and Jack hadn’t had a chance to ask.  But it wasn’t exactly out of character for him to leave suddenly…and his flight tendencies kicked in especially hard when he’d been hurt.

_He kissed her first.  Shit._

“Don’t panic til you have something to panic about,” Jack said instead.

“You think he’s gone too,” she said, but she sounded more tired than accusatory.

“Just relax, and breathe,” he told her.  “It was just a kiss, right?  So maybe you both just need a day to calm down, and it’ll all blow over.”

“Yeah,” she said, but didn’t sound like she believed him at all.  “Listen, I gotta go, Ian just got up.  Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.  Take care, Rose.”

She disconnected, and he stood leaning against the counter, the phone pressed against his chin.  He hated the way she’d pulled away, he hated the way she always did.  She only called him because he was the only one to call, and it drove him crazy, because it was always on her terms.  And that was just as friends.  He couldn’t imagine how she’d be with someone she actually developed feelings for.

But he wasn’t going anywhere, because he couldn’t.  He’d seen her go through too much to walk away, and he owed it to John to make sure that his friend’s wife and son were taken care of, even if Rose fought him every step of the way.  James was a different story, though.

“Everything alright?” Ianto asked, and Jack shook himself from his thoughts as the other man walked in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Rose?” Ianto asked, moving past Jack to fix himself a cup of coffee.

“How’d you guess?”

“There’s a look,” he said with a shrug.  “A mix of frustration beyond reason and unconditional love that only she can create.”

Jack chuckled, some of the tension draining out of him as he put an arm around Ianto’s waist and kissed him good morning.

“So, breakfast?” Ianto asked when they broke apart.

“Uh…no,” Jack said, glancing at the clock on the microwave.  “Have an errand to run.”

“Now?” Ianto asked with a frown.  “It’s not even seven!”

“James will be awake,” Jack replied with certainty, moving back out into the hall towards the bedroom.  “Tell you what, I’ll call you when I’m on my way back, and we’ll have breakfast when I come home.  The whole day is yours.”

“Quite a promise, Mr Harkness,” Ianto called after him.

“Only for the best coffee boy,” Jack called back with a grin.

oOoOo

Jack didn’t bother calling first, hoping that James would at least stay to say goodbye after the tongue lashing he surely got from Donna after last time.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the blue Ford in the drive, but got anxious again when he saw James’ tall, angular form leaving the house and opening the boot.  He pulled in behind his friend, leaving just enough space for James to turn around with a puzzled look.

Jack rolled his window down and stuck his head out.  “Going somewhere, Jamie?”

“Nah, just forgot something,” James said, holding up a notebook and a couple of CD disks.  “Bit early for you on a Sunday, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well,” Jack hedged.   _Fuck it_.  “Rose called.”

“Oh.”  James’ face immediately went blank, completely unreadable.

“Yeah.”  Jack ducked his head back inside the car and rolled the window up before turning it off and pulling his key out.  He chanced another look at James as he got out of the car.  The other man was looking down, and a muscle twitched in his jaw.  The circles under his eyes were darker than usual.  “Did you sleep at  _all_?”

“Is this where you tell me to stay away from her?” James asked, ignoring the question as he looked up.

“No,” Jack replied.  “I just want to talk.”

James watched him steadily for a moment, then scrubbed a hand down his face.  “Coffee?”

Jack followed him into the house, dropping into a chair in the kitchen while James fixed them both mugs.  He wasn’t entirely sure what to do now.  He’d come expecting to have to convince him to stay, or at least tell Rose and Ian himself that he was leaving, but without James obviously ready to bolt, he was at a bit of a loss.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” James asked, setting a mug in front of Jack and taking the chair opposite him and stretching his legs out to the side, crossing his arms and ankles.

Jack considered for a moment.  “So, you kissed her.”

“She kissed me,” James corrected.

“She said you kissed her first.”

“ _That_  was  _weeks_  ago!” James protested.  “Over a month.  Her birthday!”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up at that.  “She said she wasn’t doing anything for her birthday.”

“Yeah, well, Ian and I sort of…surprised her,” James said, rubbing the back on his neck self-consciously.  “Anyway, doesn’t matter.  Same reaction no matter who initiated it.”

“It wasn’t a date,” Jack said, watching him closely.

James snorted.  “Clearly.”

“But you wanted it to be.”

James opened his mouth, then sighed.  He scrubbed a hand down his face and turned, tucking his legs under the table and leaning his forearms on the surface.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug.  “I get it, you’ve got some…big brother compulsion to warn me against hurting her.  But honestly, you could have saved yourself the trip.  I’m not interested anymore.”

“Just like that?” Jack asked with a shrug of his own.  “I don’t buy it.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants, Jack,” James said quietly, his gaze drifting down and away.  “And I’m not about to hang myself on that rope.  Not again.”

“She’s not Charley,” Jack said, frowning.

“No, I know,” James said with a nod.  “I know.  But…still.  Better to just…not.”

“So are you going to leave?” Jack asked.

“What?”  James’ brow furrowed in confusion.  “No.  Why would I do that?”

“Sort of your MO,” Jack said.

“No, I can’t—no,” James said, and quickly lost himself to babbling.  “I can’t just  _leave_ her like that—I mean, what would she do with Ian?  And it was just a kiss, it doesn’t matter what—no.  Besides, Ian’s doing well, and he’s sort of helping with something I’m working on, a piece of software, so I can’t just leave, it would set me back and both of us would lose.  Um.  So no.  Not leaving.”

Jack looked at him curiously.  “Right.  So, not going to…oh, I dunno…France?”

“How did you— _Donna_.”  He growled his sister’s name, glancing up at the ceiling briefly before returning his gaze to Jack.  “No.  Not going to France.  That was…just something I needed to take care of.”

“Rose thinks you’re already gone,” Jack said.

James eyes widened as he straightened, pulling his phone out of his pocket.  “What did you tell her?”

Jack shrugged.  “I told her not to panic until there was a reason to.  And there’s no reason to, right?”

“Yeah,” James said distractedly, looking down at his phone as he typed something.  “I’m here til she tells me to leave.”

“Good to know,” Jack said, narrowing his eyes a little.  “Well…Ianto’s making breakfast, so I should probably head back.”

“Yeah, alright,” James said, looking up finally and standing.

He stayed distracted as he led Jack back out to his car, and was focused back on his phone by the time Jack was pulling out of the drive.  Jack would be willing to bet everything he owned that he knew who James was texting, and he’d go double or nothing to wager that James had no idea how far gone he already was.

“How’d it go?” Ianto asked after Jack put in his blue tooth and called him.

“Weird,” Jack replied.  “Apparently, he’s here until Rose tells him to leave.”

“James  _Noble_  said that?” Ianto asked.

“Yep.”

“Does he  _know_ he said that?”

“He was a little distracted at the time,” Jack admitted.

“This is going to end in tears,” Ianto predicted.

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” Jack chided.

“Tears and top shelf liquor.”

“That’s better,” Jack said with a grin.  “Who knows, Ianto?  Maybe he’ll turn out to be exactly what she needs.”

“She doesn’t need anyone,” Ianto replied.  “Just ask her.”

Jack sighed.  “And he’s still a gun shy flight risk.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“And stock up on whiskey and tissues.”

“That too.”

oOoOo

 **07:27 Message received, James cell:**  
I’m not leaving.

 **07:31 Message sent.**  
It’s alright.

 **07:31 Message received, James cell:**  
No, it’s not.  I’m not leaving.

 **07:32 Message sent.**  
We’ll be fine.

 **07:34 Message received, James cell:**  
I know.  But I promised I’d give you notice.  And I haven’t.  So I can’t leave.

 **07:38 Message sent.**  
Okay.

 **07:39 Message received, James cell:**  
Okay.  See you tomorrow, Rose.


	15. A Question of Worth

He tried. He really did. He made what he believed to be a heroic attempt at normality after "the incident". But despite what he'd told Jack, and no matter how much he willed it, James couldn't simply turn off this infatuation with Rose. The fact that she wasn't entirely immune, but simply wouldn't allow anything to happen between them, just made it all the more frustrating.

He knew he was doomed from the moment he saw her hesitant smile Monday morning, and nearly groaned out loud.

The next time Donna offered him relationship advice, he’d tell her she could hang.  The not-date had been a mistake, clearly.  Before that, he’d been able to cope.  He’d been attracted to Rose, sure, but at least he could _function_.  Now, though, he kept thinking about her in that black dress, looking stunning as she smiled brilliantly at him beneath the city lights, one of her real smiles, when the walls would fall away for an instant.  He’d become incredibly aware of how often they touched, because he flinched whenever they came in contact, reminded of the kiss--the feel of her lips and tongue dancing with his, and the scrape of her nails against his scalp, and how perfectly she’d fit in his arms.  The look of hurt that flitted across her features when she noticed him pull back made him want to scream.  It had been _her_ that kissed him, for whatever reason, and her that pushed him away, again.  She had no business acting hurt...but he still hated it, because seeing Rose unhappy bothered him far more than he’d like to admit, and it only served to annoy him further.

He’d sworn that he wouldn’t let all of this affect Ian, which was the main reason for his ludicrous attempts at normalcy, but the best he’d been able to achieve was a sort of awkward truce between him and Rose.  Monday he’d fled within a few minutes of her returning home from work.  Tuesday morning he’d showed up as late as possible, but then he’d felt terrible because she’d had Ian ready to spend the day at her office, because, in her world, being late _apparently_ meant that he just wasn’t going to show up.  By Wednesday, he was a twitching mess when she was around--so much so that he completely forgot about staying for dinner and bedtime.

“What are we making for dinner tonight, James?” Ian asked before James had even had a chance to put his things down.  He paused, considering the psychological ramifications of spending the evening with a woman he’d become so hyper aware of, trying not to touch her or think about her in any way other than professional, and, based on empirical evidence, continuing to fail miserably.  He decided that dinner with Rose, at this point, was a level of hell that Dante forgot to mention.

“I’m having dinner with my grandfather,” he blurted out, making a mental note to text Granddad later and inform him.

“But it’s Wednesday,” Ian said blankly, as if James had just told him water was no longer wet.

“Yeah, I know,” James replied, nodding.  “But you know how forgetful I am, it just slipped my mind, and I sprung Granddad on your mum before, don’t wanna do that again.”

“Can’t you have dinner with him tomorrow night?” Ian pouted.

“Afraid not,” James said, eyeing the familiar “kicked puppy” look on the little boy’s face uneasily.

“Well, can you have dinner here tomorrow night then?”

“But it won’t be Wednesday,” James reminded him, a little desperately.

Ian gave a little sigh and continued to look unhappy, and James very carefully avoided catching Rose’s eye, even while he felt her gaze burning a hole in the side of his head.

“You’ll stay next week though, right?” Ian asked finally.

James opened his mouth, but had no idea what to say.  Denying Ian anything was difficult at the best of times; saying no to something that had become a fixture in his life was nearly impossible.  But with the state of things with Rose--

“We’ll talk about it next week, yeah?” Rose said after a moment.  “Loads of time between now and then.  No reason to worry about it now.  James, why don’t you come get some coffee?”

“I--oh.”  One look at her face and it was obvious this was not negotiable.  “Yeah, alright.”

She rounded on him almost before the door was shut.  “I can deal with you trying to punish me, Mister Noble, but I am not going to let you punish my son because you got your feelings hurt!”

“Mister Noble?” he asked, feeling like she’d punched him in the gut.  “Since when--Rose, I--I’m not trying to punish _anyone_ , not you, and definitely not Ian.”

“So you just _happened_ to have plans with your grandfather?” she asked sarcastically.

“Yes!” he insisted, raking a hand through his hair.  “Sort of.  I just--look, Rose, I just think, after this weekend, that it’d probably be better if we were all a bit more...professional.  And I’m fairly certain you’d be hard-pressed to find another tutor that stays for dinner and bedtime stories every week.”

“You invited _me_ ,” she pointed, crossing her arms defensively.

“Yes, clearly the fault is completely mine,” he snapped, his hand tightening on his neck as he rolled his eyes.

Rose studied him for a moment, then glanced at the closed pass-through and sighed.  “I suppose you’re right.  Probably better that way.  I don’t want him getting overly attached.”

“No, that’s not--”  James let out a frustrated growl, scrubbing his other hand down his face before dropping both.  It _always_ came back to that.  “You know what, forget it.  Employer,” he said, palms out as he gestured at her.  “Employee,” he finished, gesturing back at himself.  “Ian’s still getting taken care of, and we don’t...anything.”

“Yeah,” she said, drawing herself up and schooling her features into something harder and neutral. 

He gave up.

“Yeah.”

oOoOo

“I thought tonight was Rose and Ian’s night,” Wilf commented later, handing off his menu to their waitress after ordering dinner.

“Change of plans,” James said, watching the waitress retreat before turning back to his grandfather.  “Or do you have an issue with your favorite grandson taking you out for dinner?”

Wilf hummed doubtfully, and James hurriedly looked for a distraction, settling on his glass of water.

“Did something happen?” Wilf asked as he picked up the glass and took a long drink.  “What happened with that show you were going to take them to?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Granddad,” James said, setting his glass down on the table and looking around the little cafe.

“Just trying to figure out why my _favorite grandson_ would rather spend his night with an old man than a gorgeous blonde,” Wilf remarked.

“Less complicated,” he answered, then tilted his head.  “In theory.”

“That was your first mistake,” Wilf said with a small smile.  “What’s happened, Jamie?  I thought you liked her.”

“Why is everyone so set on that?” James demanded.  “I’ve got Donna, Jack, _you_.  I’m tutoring her _son_ , that’s it, that’s all there is.  Sure, she’s beautiful, and smart, and yeah, she’s funny and sweet, but that doesn’t mean--I’m not--I’m tutoring her _son_.”

“And you’re still here,” Wilf pointed out.  “Which is a bit of a miracle in itself.”

“That’s got nothing to do with _her_ ,” James retorted.  “I mean, yes, it does, because I’d hate to see her in a jam, and all her other applicants were god awful, exceptt that Mister Roberts, and he, frankly, was a bit of a prat.  Totally wrong for Ian.  But I’m working on something, and Ian’s helping with that.  It’s research.  And, I mean, there’s Donna.”

“What about Donna?” Wilf asked, leaning forward on the table.

“Well, she’s getting serious about this Lee character,” he explained.  “And I can’t stand by and let that turn into another Lance situation.”

“Lee’s nothing like Lance.”

“And I’m just gonna make sure of it,” James vowed, stabbing a finger at the older man.

“Didn’t matter nearly as much a couple months ago,” Wilf said.

“That’s not true,” James said defensively as the waitress came back with their food.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Wilf offered to the waitress before turning back to his grandson.  “You were still planning to leave before.”

“That was different.”

“Because then you weren’t smitten with your pupil’s mum,” Wilf said, biting into his sandwich.  "And you can deny it all you want, but that won't make it any less true, so you might as well own up to it and quit wasting an old man's time.  It's rude, and I taught you better than that."

James let out a low chuckle despite himself, tugging at his ear.  "Yeah, yeah you did." He sighed, reaching for a chip. "Doesn't matter though."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't want me," James told him with a shrug.

"Then she's a fool," Wilf said bluntly. "But I don't think that's it."

James' lips twitched. "No? And why's that?"

"Because for one, you've never 'suffered fools gladly', as you used to say," Wilf told him, blue eyes twinkling.  "You wouldn't be half so gone if she were. But besides that, I met her. You weren't the only one making moon eyes that night. What happened?"

James eyed him warily for a moment, then sighed and gave up.  While they ate, James spilled everything, from that first kiss on her birthday to the argument earlier.

"It’s just that she’s sending all these mixed signals, blowing hot and cold like you wouldn't believe,” he finished off.  “I can't win with her.  If I get too close, she scarpers, but if I get too distant, then I've got one foot out the door.  I'm driving myself mad trying to find some place in between, and I honestly couldn't tell you why."

"Because you care about her," Wilf said.

“Against my better judgement,” James muttered.

“Now, don’t start with that,” Wilf said, shaking a finger at him.  “It’s just that you don’t understand the situation.”

“And you do?” James asked doubtfully.

“More than you,” Wilf retorted.  “Thing is, Jamie, she’s a widow.  Losing someone like that isn’t the same as splitting up.  All those things you shared, that’s still a part of you, and you’re still in love.  God knows I still think about your gran everyday, and miss her.  Plus, Rose is young...that wasn’t supposed to happen for her.  She still loves her husband, so having feelings for you is bound to be confusing.  I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more besides, but there’s at least that.”

“So what do I do?” James asked.

“For starters, learn the value of patience,” Wilf suggested.  “Never been your strong suit.  It’s always got to be all or nothing with you, nothing in between.  Which is fine when you’re dealing with logical problems with a clear solution, because you barrel through any obstacle once you set your mind to it, but people don’t always work like that.  And you should talk to her.  Now, stop that,” he added when James groaned.  “You’re a big boy, you can handle it.”

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say!” James protested.  “And she doesn’t say _anything_.  Not intentionally, anyway.”

“Didn’t say it would be easy,” Wilf said.  “Question is whether it’s worth it.”

James considered the various levels of tension he’d lived with since meeting Rose, trying to weigh them against the things that attracted him to her, her charm and humor and smiles.  After a moment, he shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Wilf gave him a steady look.  “Then that’s the first thing you have to figure out.”

oOoOo

Wednesday was a bad night for Rose.  Ian, disappointed that James hadn’t stayed, acted up more than usual, unsatisfied with any of her suggestions for dinner or after dinner activities.  They’d ended up eating leftover chinese that he’d poked at glumly for twenty minutes before she gave up and cleared it away, and they watched the film he complained about the least.  By the time she finally put him to bed, she was exhausted.  She never should have let weekly dinners become a thing--she could cope with things like that ending, but Ian took it a lot harder, which made everything more difficult.

On top of that, when she got to bed herself, she’d been plagued with nightmares, waking up every hour until she finally gave up around three.  By the time she got Ian up at seven, she was ready to cry she was so tired and emotionally wrung out, but she steeled herself for the day while she got him breakfast.  She didn’t have the luxury of tears with a small son to take care of and bills to pay.

When James showed up, she tried to put on a good face, but didn't have the energy to sustain it very long. She fled to the kitchen to gulp down another cup of coffee before leaving for the office, inwardly groaning when she heard him follow her. She kept her eyes trained on her mug as he came closer, leaning on the counter next to her; when she didn't face him, he reached out and lifted her face to him with two fingers under her chin. She moved her head away from his touch, tensing when she heard him sigh.

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

“It happens,” she said, tilting her chin up a little.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.

“Didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” she replied calmly, not that she would have anyway.  Calling someone in the middle of the night because she had a bad dream was just a level of failure she couldn’t deal with.  But that was beside the point.  “It’s not exactly _professional_.”

James’ eyes slid closed, and he bowed his head for a moment, then let out a long breath before looking back at her.

“It’s really hard to draw lines with you,” he said.

“Sorry to be such a burden,” she snapped, stepping around him and heading for the door.  “I already told you that you’re free to leave, don’t stay on my account.”

“No, wait, Rose,” he said, tugging on her arm gently to keep her in the room.  “Don’t do that.  That’s not what I meant, and you know it.  It’s just--look, call me, don’t call me, that’s up to you.  Just don’t _not_ call me because you think I don’t want to hear from you, or that you’re a burden.  Everything I said before...all this, it still stands, alright?”

She studied him for a moment, searching for some sign of motive and failing.  “Why?”

His gaze drifted down and away, and he gave a rueful chuckle, shaking his head a little before looking back at her.

“Because you’re worth it.”

oOoOo

After that, things got a little better between them.  It was still a little tense and uneasy, and Rose missed the random texts throughout the day and the tea in the afternoon, but they were both less jumpy, and she decided that was probably good enough.  Things had gotten too far anyway.  She wasn’t sure what was going to happen the next time the dinner conversation came up, but the next week, Ian made the decision for them by getting sick Tuesday night.

“I sent you a text message,” Rose said when she opened the door the next morning, staring at James in confusion.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, shuffling awkwardly and tugging on his ear with his free hand.  “But I ignored it.  Um.  I brought things,” he added, holding up a paper sack and rummaging through it.  “Stomach medicine, crackers, movies, a book about dragons.”

He held up the book, and Rose let out a laugh when she realized he’d managed to find one with a picture that perfectly matched Ian’s beloved stuffed dragon, Zippo.  She still shook her head after a second.

“I can’t ask you to stay with him,” she said.

“Good thing you’re not then,” he replied, pushing past her into the flat.  “It’s fine, honestly.  It’s not like I had anything else planned, and you’ve got that political ad to work on.  Can’t have you letting down your Queen and country.”

“Says the man who shut down the government to prove a point,” she laughed.

“I was bored,” he said with a shrug as he entered the living room, where a miserable Ian was laying on the sofa.  “How are you feeling, little man?”

Ian glanced at Rose before looking back at James.  “I’m okay.”

“He always says that,” Rose said, shaking her head.  “But he’s been throwing up since last night, and he’s got a fever.  I _think_ it’s just the stomach flu.”

“Probably a safe bet,” James said with a nod.  “Which means he’ll be alright if you go to work and I stay here with him.”  She hesitated, wringing her hands.  “Rose, it’s fine.”

“Are you okay with that?” she asked Ian, and he nodded.  Reluctantly, she conceded that James had a point.  “Alright then.  Thank you, James.”

“Any time.”

She got ready for work in record time, making James swear to call if anything changed, and promising to call Ian to check on him at lunch regardless.  She narrowly avoided missing her bus, and managed to make it to work in time, despite her late start.  She was just putting her purse down on her desk when her phone rang.

“Rose, where are you?”

“At the office,” she said, James’ urgent tone sending alarm shooting through her.  “Just got here.”

“Tell your boss you’re leaving for the day.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m on my way to pick you up,” he told her.  “Ian needs to go to the hospital, right now.”


	16. Let the Rain Fall

From the time James called her, Rose functioned on autopilot. She wasn't entirely sure what she said to Sarah Jane, but apparently it was sufficient, because she was standing outside waiting when his blue ford pulled into the lot. She got in the back, holding Ian's hand while words like "appendicitis" and "routine surgery" filtered through the haze. At the hospital, her hand shook as she tried to fill out the necessary paperwork, until a hand gently took the pen from her and guided her to a chair. Then Ian was in her lap, his face buried in her neck, and she was answering standard identification questions about her son automatically until a nurse called his name. A doctor came rushing into the room almost immediately, and Rose barely registered a pretty woman about her own age examining Ian.  He looked so small and scared, and he held onto her hand so tightly.  Then consent forms were thrust at her and the doctor was giving an explanation about the procedure that didn’t quite puncture her cloud of detachment.  Flashbacks to her mother’s various treatments when she was a teenager bombarded her as she kissed Ian before he was taken away to be prepped for surgery.

"I don't know what you were playing at," the doctor snapped as she snatched the signed consent forms and handed them off to a nurse.  "He should have been in here as soon as the pain started."

"I--I didn't know," she stammered, reeling back into something warm and solid, and a firm hand gripped her arm, keeping her steady and upright.

"Then maybe you should have been paying better attention," the doctor suggested harshly, and Rose's stomach churned.

"Maybe you should focus on your job," another voice suggested in a tone that left no room for argument.

When the doctor left, the supporting hand moved to her back as another nurse led her to a waiting area. A voice murmured something about water, and then she was alone, staring out the window at the predictably gray sky.

In the stillness, her mind started working again, whirring through all the things that could go wrong, from a nicked artery to a bad blood transfusion to Ian contracting one of those antibiotic immune superbugs she always heard about on the news. With each scenario, the carefully constructed barriers she'd built between herself and her pain cracked, until she felt like she was breaking apart from the inside out.

oOoOo

James took a moment to call Jack and let him know what had happened before buying a bottle of water for Rose at a vending machine, hoping to any god listening it would help.  As concerned as he was about Ian, the little boy was being taken care of; Rose, on the other hand, was scaring him to death.  She’d looked pale and haunted since he picked her up, like she hadn’t slept in years, and she’d been shaking since they entered the hospital.  She’d barely spoken unless absolutely necessary; he’d nearly lost his cool completely when the doctor rounded on her and she actually managed to get paler, looking ready to bolt or be sick or, possibly, both.

When he returned to the waiting area, he found Rose in an isolated corner, staring out the window at the gathering clouds.  Even from behind, she looked small, huddled in on herself, and he approached cautiously.

“Rose?”  Nothing, not even a twitch.  “Are you alright?”

“I should have known,” she muttered, so quietly he almost didn’t catch it.

“You couldn’t have,” he told her, setting the bottle and various bits of paperwork down on a nearby end table.  “He didn’t tell you he was in pain.”

“Why not?” she asked, half turning toward him.  “Why didn’t he tell me?”

He sighed.  “Because he didn’t want to worry you.”

“Why not?” she demanded, finally facing him.  “I’m his _mum_!  That’s my _job_!  It’s his job to be a little kid and be taken care and I’m just...mucking it up!”

Her voice cracked on the last words, and she bit her lip, taking a step back as he stepped forward and reached for her arm.  He dropped his hand, but shook his head slowly.

“No, Rose, that’s not true,” he said earnestly.

“John would have known,” she blurted out before he could say anything else.

“No, Rose--”

“Yes, he would,” she insisted, shaking off the hand he tried to put on her shoulder, her eyes glistening with unshed tears in the dim light from the window.  “He would have known what was wrong, and he would have known what to do.  He always knew what he was doing, and I _never_ do!”

“ _Rose_ \--”

“I just keep blundering about and making a mess of things and he’s the one that’s suffering for it!”  He tried again to touch her, to calm her down, but she pushed him away.  He stood back helplessly as she swiped angrily at the tears starting to fall on her cheeks, her whole body shaking violently as rain started to patter on the window behind her.  “John would have been better for him.  I just keep failing and coming up short, I can’t even keep a tutor without guilting him into it because I’m too _shit_ to find anyone else!  I’m _poison_!  If people aren’t smart enough to leave, they die, and _that’s_ who he got stuck with for a mum!  _John_ is what Ian needed, it should have been me under that bloody stupid car, I’m worthless, at least he had something to offer--”

She choked on a sob, bowing her head and wrapping her arms around her middle.  This time, he didn't back down when she tried to step away from his touch; he wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing her hair when she gave in and leaned against him, sobbing into his shirt.  He held her close as he felt her legs buckle, sinking to the floor and kneeling beside her as he rocked her gently.

“I can’t--I can’t lose him too,” she managed through her tears, clutching one of his arms.

“You won’t,” he promised, kissing her hair again before pushing it back from her face and cradling her head against his shoulder.  “It’s alright, Rose, he’s alright.  I’ve got you.  You’re okay.”

oOoOo

It was several minutes before she quieted enough for him to urge her into a waiting chair. He opened the bottle of water and handed it to her before sitting down next to her, glad that the overhead lights had come on to cut through the gloom as he put a hand on her back. His thumb idly traced one of her shoulder blades as she took a long drink from the bottle.

"Thanks," she said roughly after a moment, holding the bottle up, and he nodded.  "Really, thanks.  For, you know, everything."

"Don't mention it," he told her.

"I should call Jack."

"Already did," he said, taking the bottle when she held it out and returning it to the end table.  "He's on his way."

Rose nodded, then leaned forward with a sigh, resting her elbows on her knees as she ran her fingers through her hair. She left her hands resting on her neck as she twisted her head to look up at him again.

"You don't have to...you know," she started, and he tilted his head, remaining stubbornly obtuse.  "I mean, you can go if you want."

"Absolutely not," he said flatly, pointedly leaning back in the chair with his hands laced behind his head and stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle.  Hercules would have a job of removing him from her side at this point.

"I'm sure you've got something better to do then wait here with me."

"I really haven't," he assured her.  "I told you that this morning.  I was going to work, but I think my boss will understand."

She rolled her eyes and snorted at his terrible joke and accompanying wink, then dropped her hands and leaned back in the chair, looking around.

"I hate hospitals," she muttered.

“Yeah, I sort of gathered,” he said, glancing around as he stretched one arm behind her, letting the other fall to the arm rest.

“My mum died here,” she said tonelessly, and he turned to look at her.  “Not here, here.  But in a hospital...they all start to look the same after a while.  She was in and out a lot, towards the end.”

Sixteen.  She’d been _sixteen_ when her mum died.  He pictured a younger her, a little softer, a little less cynical, waiting alone while her mother died.  His eyes slid closed as borrowed pain tightened in his chest; knowing that it was only a fraction of what she must have felt only made it worse.

“Come here,” he murmured, dropping his arm across her shoulders, cursing the arm rests as he pulled her closer.  “Ian’s not going to die, Rose.  He’s sick, yeah, very sick, but it’s something they can take care of.  He’ll be okay.”

His fingers ran through her hair absently as she sniffed, although she didn’t break down again.  She didn’t pull away, either.  That was something.

He nearly swore out loud when his phone chimed a moment later, startling them both.

_in the lobby, being kept at bay by extremely ‘helpful’ nurses.  wanna lend a hand?_

“It’s Jack,” he informed her.  “Having some trouble getting past the nurse’s station.  I’ll go get him.”

“Yeah, alright,” she said, standing up and glancing around.  “Think I’ll pop to the loo, freshen up a bit.  I’m sure I look like a disaster.”

“Never,” he told her honestly as he stood up himself.  “I’ll grab some tea on my way back too.”

“Oh, that’d be wonderful,” she said with feeling.  “I’ll have--”

“--all the milk and sugar I can get my hands on,” he said with a long suffering sigh.  “I know.  I’ll be back.  You’ll be okay?”

She took a deep breath and nodded, and he stepped forward to put his hand on her cheek and kiss her forehead lightly before leaving.  He was almost glad that Jack had been delayed--it gave him an opportunity to have a few choice words alone with his friend.

oOoOo

“Oh thank god,” Jack burst out when he saw James enter the lobby, and turned to the nurse.  “See, I told you.”

“Family friend of Ian Smith,” James told the woman. “He can at least come to the surgical waiting room, surely?”

He gave her a small, pleading smile when she eyed him, and she sighed.  “He’s to stay in the waiting room, understand?”

“Fully,” James said, nodding earnestly.  “He won’t leave my sight, you have my word.”

“I’ll have more than that,” Jack heard the woman say as they walked past her, and Jack shot a look back at her.  She blushed and looked down hurriedly, and Jack followed after James, shaking his head.

“How do you _do_ that?” he asked.  “I mean, I know _I_ can.  I’ve perfected my ‘Hi, Jack Harkness’ to maximum effect--”  He stopped when James turned into an empty stairwell, spinning around and giving him a look that Jack instantly recognized as what Donna referred to as “The Oncoming Storm”.  “Something on your mind, Jamie?”

"Rose is a wreck."

"Her son is in surgery," Jack reminded him, frowning in confusion.  "I'd expect--"

"No, this goes way beyond parental concern, Jack," James interrupted.  "I mean she's a complete disaster, emotionally. Thinking it should have been her under that car instead of John sort of disaster."

"She said that?" Jack asked sharply.

"Yeah," he said.  "My question is, why, in the last five years, have you, apparently her only friend, completely ignored how _broken_ she is?"

"I haven't ignored it!"

"Well you sure as hell haven't _done_ anything about it!"

"And what was I supposed to do?" he demanded.  "I had to practically camp out on her doorstep for two weeks after the funeral just to stick around when she cut everyone else out, and even then, she only allowed it because she thought I was doing it for _John_!"

"So, what, that was just good enough?" James asked sarcastically, crossing his arms and shrugging.  "Managed to survive her purge and figured you'd done your duty?"

"Of course not," Jack spat.  "It's so easy for you to come in and make judgments, isn't it?  Well, this isn't Torchwood.  Out here, you're not the Doctor, you're just James Noble, and believe it or not, you might not know everything."

"She should have gotten help years ago," James insisted.  "That much I do know.  Or at least talked to someone."

"I _tried_ ," Jack told him.  "But every time I did, she'd pull away, and I'd be left wondering if I was ever going to hear from her again.  I figured it'd be worse if she completely isolated herself, so I backed off.". He stared at James for a beat, then shook his head.  "I don't know why she talks to you. Maybe just right time, right place, but I don't think so. But whatever it is, it doesn't give you the right to tell me how to deal with my friend. You think she's made you crazy in three or four months?  Try five years.  Stick around that long, then we can talk."

James continued to glare at him for a moment, then groaned, raising both hands to his face and running them down it in frustration.  "You're right.  Of course you're right.  I just...I hate seeing her like that."

Jack nodded, easily picturing the disturbingly detached quality of those rare confessions.  "You almost want her to cry and rage, just to get it out."

James have him an odd look.  "Suppose," he said slowly, tugging on one ear. "I guess that would be...something.  Um.  Come on, I promised to get teas before we went back up."

"Tea in a crisis," Jack said with a grin as they exited the stairwell.  "Very British."

Rose gave him a stiff hug when they made it up to the waiting room, then took the tea James held out to her gratefully before sitting down, hands cupped around the warm drink. James took the seat next to her, stretching an arm out on the seat behind her and resting the ankle of one leg on the opposite knee.

"Any word?" Jack asked as he took a seat opposite them, deciding not to mention the redness of Rose's eyes.  Probably cried when James left.

Rose shook her head, biting her lip uncertainly.  "I think it might still be a little while."

James glanced at her, then leaned over to pick up a stack of paperwork.  He leafed through it quickly, and handed Jack several sheets that outlined the procedure.

"They're trying to go the laparoscopic route first," he explained, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.  "Relatively less invasive, quicker, and a lower chance of infection.  A few small incisions around the belly button to feed a camera inside, performing the surgery more or less remotely and pulling the appendix back out.  If they can't do that for some reason, they'll go the traditional route."

"That's the--"  Jack made a vague gesture at his side.

"Yeah.  Incision to the lower right side if the abdomen, getting to it more directly.  If the worst happens and it bursts--"  Jack didn't miss the way Rise immediately stiffened...or the way James' hand was instantly on the back of her neck, his thumb moving lightly over her skin.  He angled his body more towards her, and it dawned on Jack that this explanation wasn't really for him at all.  "If that happens, they'll wash the abdomen with a solution, and leave a tube in place to drain any fluids.  Still routine, still normal, still absolutely fixable."

He'd given up all pretense at the end, and was watching Rose closely.  He reached out with his free hand, pulling her face up gently to look at him, and she took a deep breath before nodding.  Jack watched in fascination as James' thumb moved lightly over her jaw.

_Not interested anymore, my ass._

"So how long are we looking at?" Jack asked, biting back a smirk when they both jumped a little.  James let go of Rose's chin to check his watch, making an uncertain noise.

"Worst case, less than two hours," he wagered.

"My baby's going to have a scar," Rose said, unsurprisingly assuming the worst case scenario.

"Not a big one," James said with a shrug.  "It'll help him pick up girls later.  Scars are sexy."

"Probably not appendectomy scars," she replied, giving him a strange look.

"I'll prove it," he said, standing and lifting his shirt to reveal a scar maybe two inches long above his hip.  Rose's mouth dropped open a little as her eyes flicked between his face and the scar.  "Sexy right?  You like it.  Little bit.  Don't deny it."

"Oh my god, you're an idiot," she said with a small laugh.  "Put your shirt back down!"

He grinned, his tongue running over his teeth, but did as he was told before sitting back down.

"You had an appendectomy?"

James nodded.  "When I was twelve.  And none the worse for wear."

Their eyes locked for a long moment, and then Rose took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her mouth.

“Two hours,” she said.

“Two hours,” James agreed, smiling a little as he reached up, brushing a stray hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“I can do two hours.”

“Yeah, you can.”  He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head when she leaned it against his chest.  Jack took all this in silently, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Hey Jamie,” he said after a moment, and James lifted his head from where it rested on top of Rose’s.  “They told me immediate family only.  How’d you get in?”

James shrugged a little, unconcerned.  “They never asked.”

oOoOo

Rory Williams was having a terrible day.  His six week old daughter, Melody, was cholicy, and as such, had kept him and Amy up most of the night fussing...for the past week.  Which also meant that he and Amy were shorter with each other than usual, and had fought that morning before he left for work, something stupid that he felt awful about, but of course then he hadn’t had a chance to call her and apologize.  Maybe it was that mood that made him snap at Doctor Jones--either that, or he really had finally lost his mind.  But he’d seen how scared that woman had been for her son, and how she paled when Doctor Jones had yelled at her.  Of course, Doctor Jones was on the tail end of a thirty-six hour shift, but that wasn’t an excuse to make her patient’s mum feel worse than she did already.

He did feel a little better after the surgery, when they went to the waiting room, and Doctor Jones apologized for what she’d said earlier.

“It’s just I see so many kids get sick, or worse, just because parents are too busy with themselves,” she said.  “But I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you.  I’m sorry.  But I will tell you that the surgery went well, for the most part.  His appendix _did_ rupture when we made our laparoscopic attempt, but we were able to remove it internally without a problem, and the wash was successful.  We’ll have to keep him here for a couple of days to let the fluid drain and monitor for peritoneal infection, but he should be back on his feet before long.”

Mrs Smith let out a shuddering breath, and gave the man next to her a tight smile when he squeezed her hand.

“Can...can we see him?”

“Yes,” Doctor Jones said.  “Rory here will take you to him.  He’s still in recovery, and groggy from the anesthetic, but you can see him there, and we’ll move him to the ward as soon as his vitals are stable enough.”

“Thank you, Doctor Jones,” the man holding Mrs Smith’s hand said--something Noble.  He still looked guarded, but less threatening than he had earlier.

Doctor Jones left, and Rory led the little group to recovery.  He let Mrs Smith in, but held out a hand before the two men following her could enter.

“I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly, when Mister Noble half turned but didn’t raise his eyes from the nurse’s hand.  “It’s just that his chart says his father’s deceased, and Mrs Smith is a widow.  The recovery room...it’s immediate family only.  Unless you’re related to them, I can’t let you in.”

Then Mister Noble did raise his eyes, and Rory swallowed hard.  “You’re welcome to try and stop me.”

It wasn’t a threat...exactly.  But after another brief moment of intense eye contact, Mister Noble swept past him, the other man following swiftly in his wake.  Mister Noble found a chair for Mrs Smith and brought it closer to the bed, and both men took up station at her shoulders as she sat down and reached for Ian’s hand.

“Did you want me to call security?” Marlene, the other nurse on duty, asked him.

“No,” he said, watching as Mister Noble leaned forward and brushed a lock of hair out of the little boy’s face.

He knew that look.  That was not a look that was going to be stopped by much, and definitely not a security guard who was eighty if he was a day.  Rory had never worn it, but he could imagine that’s exactly the look he’d have if someone told him he couldn’t see Melody.

On impulse, he glanced at Ian’s chart before he slotted it next to the door, and smirked at Mister Noble’s mention in the incident report.

Tutor indeed.


	17. The Problem of Rose

Three days after the surgery, James was at the hospital once again--he'd spent nearly as much time there as Rose--helping gather together the staggering amount of balloons, cards, stuffed animals, and assorted other miscellany that Ian had managed to collect during his stay.

"I didn't even think we knew this many people," Rose commented, peering at the tag attached to a large teddy bear.  "Donna and Lee... That's your sister, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," James said from where he was pulling a shirt over Ian's head.

"Why'd she give him something?" she asked.

"Because that's what she does," James said with a shrug.  "She'd be hard pressed to tell you anything about current events, but damned if she doesn't know what was happening in the lives of everyone she knows."

"But we've never even met her!" Rose squeaked in protest.  "We're not important!"

He stared at her a minute, then shook his head with a rueful smile.  "You're important to me.  That's enough for her."

"You're important to us too, James," Ian said before Rose could respond, wrapping his arms around James' neck when he finished getting his shirt on.

"Thanks, little man," James said, returning the hug gently.  "What do you say we get you out of here?"

"Yes, please," Ian said with feeling, only wincing a little when he hopped off the bed.  "I don't like it here.  The food is rubbish."

"That it is," James said with a chuckle.  "Good thing Granddad is waiting in the car with a pot of his Chili Surprise," he added, waggling his eyebrows.

He'd texted Rose before picking them up, telling her Wilf was refusing to be left behind.  She’d been hesitant until he said his grandfather was also bringing food, and promised not to stay long.  As her last check of the flat had revealed little beyond a box of cheesy noodles and a jar of apricot jam that both she and Ian refused to touch, she’d given in.

“Thank you for this,” she said as they wheeled Ian out into the hall--hospital protocol.

“Rose, stop,” James said, rolling his eyes.  “I dunno how you’ve done it, but I think you’ve thanked me at least four thousand times in the last three days, and although you’re very welcome, you don’t have to keep doing that.  I told you, I’m happy to help.”

Rose gave him a tight smile and looked down, trying not to think about the guilt pressing in on her.  He didn’t ask for any of this, none of it was his responsibility, but he’d been the one to bring Ian to the hospital, and to deal with Rose herself when she’d fallen apart.  He’d even managed to wrangle them a private room so she could stay with Ian...the first night after the surgery, she’d fallen asleep bent over Ian’s bed, holding his hand.  During the night, she’d woken up enough to hear James and Ian talking quietly before James had told Ian to try to go back to sleep, assuring her son that he’d be there when he woke up, as he covered Rose with his jacket.  The weight and scent of it comforted her like a hug, and sent her drifting back to sleep within a minute.  She’d woken up the next morning to him breezing into the room with three breakfast trays, a towel over one arm as if it was haute cuisine, calling Ian ‘sir’ and assuring him that they had only the finest of cartoons available.  Ian had giggled and played along, and Rose nearly cried again at James’ ability to make even the worst situation bearable.

But that wasn’t the point.  The point was...he shouldn’t have had to.  She was the parent, he was the tutor.  He shouldn’t have had to clean up her mess, and she shouldn’t have been relying on him as much as she had.  She and Ian weren’t his problem, and she needed to start acting like an adult again.

oOoOo

Through the drive home and lunch, James watched with mounting frustration as Rose’s walls were put back up one by one.  Oh, she was friendly enough with him and his granddad, but there was an increasing distance to it, a stiffness of her shoulders and smile that made him want to scream.

It wasn’t until they were cleaning up from the Chili Surprise that he found a way to mention it.  Wilf was in the living room playing with Ian and Zippo while James and Rose washed dishes in silence, until she finally took a deep breath.

“Look,” she said slowly, focused on the bowl she was washing.  “I’m...sorry.  About what happened at the hospital.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he told her, frowning a little as she handed the bowl off to him to dry.  “You had every right to lose it a little.”

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug.  “But not on you.  You’ve been nothing but kind, I shouldn’t have...unloaded on you like that.”

“Rose--”  He paused, then tossed the towel down on the counter and turned her to face him.  “Rose, it’s fine.  Honestly.  I don’t mind.”

“Well...thanks,” she said uncertainly.  “But either way...that wasn’t your mess to clean up.  I should have had more control over myself.”

“ _More_ control?” he asked, flabbergasted that that was even a possibility.  “Rose, you exert an insane amount of control over yourself _all_ the time--for god’s sake, you don’t even let _yourself_ feel things!”  Her mouth dropped open in shock, and he immediately wanted to smack himself.  “That’s not...I shouldn’t have--”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, and he winced at the tone that meant anything but.  “No, please, tell me what you really think, since you’re such an expert.  You tell me how I’m supposed to deal with a dead husband while also working my ass off to provide for our son.  You tell me exactly when I should schedule in a minute to ‘feel things’ between clients and bath times and bills and runny noses.  I have to be in control, all the time, for him, because I’m all he’s got.”

James stared at her for a moment as he finally began to see the problem of Rose with startling clarity.  Because the breakdown, that was bad enough.  The unmasked pain and guilt she still harbored over her husband’s death was heartbreaking, but not nearly so much so as the fact that she’d never actually been able to deal with it.  She’d never had the luxury of falling apart, because even if she wasn’t a wife, she was still a mum, and still the breadwinner.  She could never let that control fall apart.

Not until Ian was gone, and it shattered.

“He wasn’t there,” James said softly, and her expression changed from defensive anger to wary confusion.  “In the waiting room.  Ian wasn’t there; you had no one you had to be strong for.  And you have nothing to apologize for.”

She stared at him, her mouth opening and closing uncertainly as she tried to work out something to say.  Before she managed to work it out, Wilf walked into the kitchen, freezing when he caught wind of the tension in the room.

"Just wanted to let you know that Ian fell asleep," he told them, looking between them.  "Everything okay in here?"

"Fine," Rose responded quickly.  "Thanks.  Yeah, the doctor said he'd probably be a bit weak still for a few days."

"Don't you worry about it," Wilf said, stepping closer to pat her on the arm.  "Kids are like rubber, the way they bounce back from things.  Jamie was back to climbing trees inside a week... And then we were back at the hospital for a broken arm, we were.  Gave his mum fits, this one did."

“Why am I not surprised?” Rose asked wryly, smiling a little as James ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Right, think that’s our cue, Granddad,” he said quickly, turning away from her and shooing Wilf out of the kitchen.

“Wait, hang on, there’s still leftovers,” Rose put in, making for the fridge.

“Keep it,” Wilf said.  “I’ve got another batch for us at home.”

“Oh...thanks,” Rose said, looking a little confused, and James bit back another sigh as they moved into the other room.  “James, I’m not sure how up for lessons Ian’s going to be in the next couple of days--”

“I’ll play it by ear,” he replied as she pulled a blanket over her sleeping child.  “I’ll be here at the same time Monday so you can get to work regardless.”

She hesitated uncertainly, and he arched an eyebrow, daring her to argue.  She let out a little chuckle, shaking her head.  “Thanks.  I’ll see you then.”

“So what was that about?” Wilf asked as they got in the car.  “In the kitchen?”

“The more besides,” James replied distractedly, his bullet train of a mind already racing toward some sort of solution for the problem of Rose.

oOoOo

“Hey, Rosie,” Jack said when he answered the phone.  “Got a proposition for you.”

“What would Ianto say?” she asked with a smirk, moving the phone from her right hand to her left in order to grab her mouse.

“Adorable,” he replied dryly.  “Seriously though...how’s Ian doing?”

“Better,” she told him.  “Probably better than I’m willing to admit yet.  He’s getting bored staying inside.”

“Well...we were wondering if we could take him this weekend,” Jack explained slowly.  “Been a while since we had a guys’ night with the little man, and I thought we could make up for lost time and extend it out a day or two.  Maybe pick him up Thursday, bring him back Monday?”

“That’s...that’s a lot of guys nights,” Rose said uncertainly.  She didn’t really have a good reason to refuse...it had been a week and a half since the surgery, and like Wilf had said, he’d bounced back like a rubber band.  “I guess...just...you know...don’t keep him up too late.  And call me if anything happens.  And to say good night.  And bring him home if he gets, you know, lonely or...homesick or whatever--”

“Promise, Rose,” he said.  There was a pause, then: “He’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” she said.  _I’m just not sure I will be_.  “Thursday night, then?  I’ll have him ready around seven?”

“Sounds like a plan.  See you then.”

When she told Ian about the plans that evening, he was thrilled, although she caught James giving her an odd look the next morning when Ian told him about it.  She pushed it from her mind, having given up trying to interpret his moods at this point.  He hadn’t mentioned what happened at the hospital or the brief argument when they’d gotten home, for which she was grateful, but he had started acting...strange.  A little distracted and detached, with an occasional intense look that she couldn’t begin to even try understanding.

Besides, she had more pressing matters to think about.  Like how she was going to overload herself with work to keep herself distracted this weekend, telling herself that she was trying to get ahead.  Unfortunately, Sarah Jane decided to dash that hope cleanly.

“But...how could I possibly have vacation days?” she asked when her boss informed her she had to take a long weekend.  “I’ve been out with Ian a few times now, most of last week, in fact.”

“Mix up in the tallies,” Sarah Jane claimed with a dismissive hand wave.  “But you have to take them before the end of the quarter, which means this weekend.”

“It’s fine,” Rose said desperately.  “I’ll just...lose them.  I don’t really--”

“No, absolutely not,” Sarah Jane ordered.  “Apart from the fact that I’d have people from Social Affairs breathing down my neck, you need a break.  Honestly, Rose, it’s not as if you were on holiday last week.  Take the time off being happy.”

Sarah Jane turned and walked out of the office then, and Rose nibbled on her thumbnail, wondering how much she could stash in her bag before Thursday to work on over the weekend--

“And no working from home either,” Sarah Jane added, popping her head back into Rose’s office.  “If you can’t log the time, you can’t do the work.  We don’t currently have anything urgent, it’ll all be here next week.”

Rose stared at the door a moment as Sarah Jane vacated again, then dropped her head to her desk with a groan.  It was like the whole universe was working against her.  She was half tempted to call Jack and cancel, but the idea died half formed when she tried to sort out how she’d explain to Ian why he couldn’t go see Uncle Jack and Ianto.

And so, Thursday evening, after being pushed out the door, she went home to finish packing for her son’s weekend, still not entirely sure what she was going to do.  James gave her another odd look when he left, wishing her a happy weekend and telling Ian to say hi to Jack for him.  Then Jack was there, whisking Ian off for a weekend of ambiguous “guy stuff” that she was fairly certain was going to involve a lot of junk food, lightsabers, and late nights.

Then she was alone. 

Thursday night, she ate leftover chinese straight out of the carton like she always told Ian not to, watched movies with a lot of swearing and sex simply because she could, and fell asleep on the sofa.

Friday, she cleaned the entire flat, and even managed to go through Ian’s toys, finding ones he didn’t play with anymore and could be donated to free up space.

Friday night, she lost her mind.

It wasn’t bad at first.  Just a general feeling of anxiety and slight claustrophobia that she couldn’t quite shake.  She did laundry and took a walk down to her favorite chippy, but then found herself shaking and nauseous when she tried to eat, and ended up chucking it.  Her voice was a little shrill, even to her own ears, when Ian called later to say he was having fun, and Jack asked if she was alright, and of course she said she was, because what else could she say?  She paced around the flat, calling herself an idiot, of course she could spend time alone, why wouldn’t she be able to?  She took a long shower and went to bed with a book, and actually managed to get a little bit of sleep before the end.  But it was less than an hour later that she was awake again, breathing hard, gasping and sweating and crying and trying not scream from the nightmare that had been so real, because it was real, it would always be real.

She started pacing again, trying to calm down, but she had nothing really to distract her.  Her frazzled brain actually considered hailing a cab and going to pick up Ian just so there was another body in the flat, something else for her to focus on, but that would only freak him out and wouldn’t actually help.  She couldn’t even call Jack, not with Ian there, he’d think something was wrong, which it was, but not in the way he would think, and really, it didn’t matter anyway.

She tried the television, but couldn’t focus, just ended up flipping through the channels ceaselessly until she found herself at the beginning again, and she still couldn’t breathe and she still couldn’t think and she was starting to feel claustrophobic in her own skin until she just wanted to _SCREAM_ \--

She stared at her phone on the coffee table for a second, then grabbed it and typed out a quick text before she could change her mind.  Just a text, easily ignored, easily explained.

_-You up?_

She closed her eyes as soon as she hit send, trying to keep the tears still burning behind them from falling, telling herself he wasn’t going to answer, he had no reason to answer, he’d cleaned up enough of her messes lately, he didn’t need this--

She looked down when her phone buzzed, alerting her to a new message.

- _Yep.  Everything alright?_

She typed yes, she typed yeah, she typed of course, she debated sending nothing at all.

_-No._

_-I’ll be there in fifteen minutes._

She stared at the text, her brain halting mercilessly but keeping her from actually making any sense of the words.  She glanced at the time at the top of the screen, just after four in the morning, he should be asleep, _she_ should be asleep, but she wasn’t and he wasn’t and _oh god_ he was coming here and she was in her jim jams and they were awful.

She texted him frantically not to come, that she was fine, that she didn’t need him to come, but all she got, five minutes later, was another text, ominously saying “ten minutes”.  She flew from the sofa to her bedroom, looking for clothes, any clothes, jeans and a jumper, that works, hair tie hair tie--at least it gave her something to focus on.  Then there was the knock at the door, and she stared at it, debating what would happen if she just didn’t answer.

“Rose?” a voice called from the other side of the door.  “Rose, are you alright?”

 _Fine_ , she tried to say.  _I’m fine, just got a bit panicky, I’m fine now, sorry to drag you out, go back home, all’s well._

But none of that came out, and after a moment, she darted for the door, struggling a second to unlock it with shaking hands before wrenching it open.  James was on the other side, looking down and resting his hands on the frame to either side of the door, but he looked up the instant she opened it.  He gave her a startled expression, but it immediately softened.

“Oh...Rose,” he said softly, stepping inside and pulling her into his arms as he closed the door behind him.

And it was stupid, it was ridiculous, it was weak and foolish, but as chaotic as she’d felt, as much as she’d felt like she was falling to pieces, it felt easier the minute his arms were around her, like he was holding all those pieces together so she could breathe.  She still tried to pull away, she didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve his kindness, his comfort, but he only held her tighter, and she felt his lips brush the top of her head as she buried her face in his chest.  He whispered something that she didn’t quite catch, but she didn’t particularly care.  She matched her breathing the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek as one of his hands stroked her hair gently, calmly, and it felt like heaven.

“Rose?”  His voice was soft, hesitant, and she lifted her head a little to look at him, an apology ready on her lips.  “You think you could handle a car ride?”

“Yes,” she breathed, never so thankful for him or his car until he gave her an opportunity to run away from herself.

He stepped back to let her tug on her shoes and jacket, then followed her outside, waiting as she locked the door behind them before taking her hand and pulling her down the stairs with him.  Her hands still felt cold and shaky, but his larger one was warm, steady, tethering her to reality as they walked down to the car park and over to his car.  As usual, he opened the car door for her, not letting go of her hand until she was huddled inside and he had to shut the door.  He jogged around to the other side, then got in and turned over the engine, pulling out as she curled against the door, her arms wrapped around her legs as she stared unseeing out the window.

She should probably ask where they were going, how far, and why, but she really didn’t care.  He turned on some music, keeping the volume low, and she let it wash over her as the streetlights sped by for an indeterminate amount of time.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?” he asked some time later.

“The same as always,” she said, her voice hollow as she shrugged.  “See John.  See car.  See car hit John.  See John die.”

He hummed a little, and she turned to look at him, but his eyes were on the dark road.  She turned back to the window, resting her head against the cool glass.  The more control she regained, the worse she felt, until her reaction to her...whatever, freak out, nearly caused another one.

“Are you angry?”

“What?”  The random question pulled her from her building panic, and she turned to him again in confusion.

“Are you angry?” he asked again, as if it would make any more sense.

“About...what?” she asked.

“Everything,” he replied, still not taking his eyes off the road.  “About John.  About your parents.  About being alone.”

“I...I dunno,” she said, shrugging.  “It doesn’t really do any good to be angry.  It’s not like it changes anything.”

“True,” he said slowly.  “But it _is_ healthy, at least for a time.  Or, at least, healthy to admit it.  And...I think you are angry.  And guilty...about a lot of things, some of which makes sense, but some you really shouldn’t.”

Rose let out a mirthless chuckle of disbelief.  “So you’re the expert on me now?  Because of one breakdown when my son was in surgery, and one moment of weakness in the middle of the night, you think you have some deep understanding into my psyche?  God, this was such a mistake.  Take me home.”

“Clearly no anger issues there,” he replied mildly.

“What do you care anyway?” she snapped, shifting uncomfortably.  “Look, I’m fine now, can you please just--”

“Are you angry at John?” he asked, cutting her off.  “For leaving?”

“It’s...it’s not like he made a choice,” she stammered.

“Neither did you,” James pointed out with a shrug.  “You didn’t get any choice in him, or your parents, or anyone else, really.  But they left, and you’re stuck here.  Alone.”

“Don’t you dare try to psychoanalyze me,” she snarled, her voice low and, yes, angry.  “It’s not like you’re some pinnacle of mental health.  When were you last home?  Two years ago?”

“Uh huh,” he admitted easily, turning onto a dark road.  “What about Ian?”

“What _about_ Ian?” she demanded hotly.

“Are you angry at him?” he asked.

“Why the hell would I be angry at my own son?”

“Because he’s here,” he replied.  “Because he’s a little boy who needs you to be more than what you think you’re capable of, because if it wasn’t for him you could have just fallen to pieces when John died, maybe even followed him.  Maybe, if it wasn’t for him, John could have gotten away too.”

“Don’t you dare,” she spits.  “Don’t you dare talk about my son like that.”

He rolled to a stop, apparently in the middle of nowhere, and she tugged violently at her seatbelt, wrenching it free before shoving the door open and sprinting away from the car, across a field of tall grass.  She’s not even sure why she’s running, but how dare he, how _dare_ he, he had no idea how she felt, what was going through her head, what sort of pain she was in, but even as she ran, it was welling up inside her, her anger at him breaking some wall until it was choking her--

An arm grabbed her, swinging her around as tears started pouring down her cheeks.

“Yes, I’m angry!” she shouted.  “Is that what you wanted to hear?  I’m angry because he promised me that we’d grow old together, and he left, just like everyone else.  I’m angry because I’m always alone and I don’t know why.  I’m angry because everyone else gets to leave, and I’m stuck here, scraping by and wishing I could just run away but I can’t because even though everyone left, I’ve still got someone who depends on me.  And I hate it, and I hate myself because it’s not his fault, none of it, and he’s just as alone as me.  And I know, I _know_ that he would have been better off with John, and I hate John for that, because I’m used to people leaving me but Ian didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve to be left with me.  But I don’t get to be upset, because they’re the ones who’re dead, John’s the one who’s never going to see his little boy grow up, so I have to be thankful and strong and I’m not, because I’m a terrible person.  And that’s why they leave.  Because I didn’t deserve them in the first place.”  She swiped angrily at the tears pouring down her face.  “Are you happy now?  Insight into everything _fucked up_ in my head.”

James watched her warily for a moment, then took a slow, careful step toward her.  He raised one hand, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear, then slid his other arm around her waist, pulling her close into an embrace.

“What...what are you doing?” she asked, trying to get some control of her tears.

“Reminding you that you’re not alone,” he replied softly.  “And that you never, ever deserved to be.”  She lost it again, crying into his jacket as he continued to speak softly.  “I wasn’t trying to be cruel, I swear.  I’m so sorry if it felt like it.  But you have every right to be angry, at the whole world if you want.  Anger, guilt, pain, that’s all normal.  But it’s never going to go away if you don’t let yourself feel it, and deal with it.  You’ve got all these wounds, sweetheart, and you’re not letting them heal.  And until you do, they’re just going to hurt.  And you deserve more than that, even if you don’t think so right now.”

It took another few minutes, but eventually she calmed down.  It wasn’t the forced calm that she usually exerted over herself.  It was different, like she’d been emptied out completely, drained of every bit of emotion and strength.  He left a hand on her waist as she took a step back, reaching into his pocket with his free hand for a handkerchief.

“So are you a psychiatrist as well now?” she asked after she’d wiped her face and nose.

“Nah,” he replied.  “Just watch a lot of Doctor Phil.”  She let out a shaky laugh despite herself, and he grinned down at her.  He raised his eyes after a second, glancing behind her before returning his gaze to hers.  “I’ll tell you a secret, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Wellll,” he said slowly, drawing out the word.  “It’s not really a _secret_ so much as a...horrendously, phenomenally bad cliche, but...regardless.  I know it feels...dark, right now, and I know it has for a long time.  But...thing is...no matter how dark, or how long, or how lonely a night seems, there’s always one thing you can be sure of.  Eventually...every night ends.”

He turned her gently, and she barely registered the crumbling stone building to their left before she gasped.  She hadn’t really noticed that it’d been getting lighter while she’d been caught up in her maelstrom of emotion, but now she could see the cliffs a few feet away, and the channel reaching out from there, across from which, colors were shooting up into the sky, a kaleidoscope fanfare to announce a new day dawning.  Even as she watched, the orange globe lazily crawled over the horizon, dragging light and warmth into the world and chasing away all the shrouded nightmares.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, leaning back when she felt his hands on her upper arms.

“Yeah,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple.  "It is."


	18. The Road To Hell

James bundled Rose back in the car after the sun had risen over the coast, trying not to think about the guilt that was making his stomach churn.  He was still certain the time on her own would be good for her, especially after her tearful admissions, but even that didn't stop him from feeling like a sadist.  The minute he'd gotten to her flat to find her pale and shaking, he'd immediately hated himself for putting her through this.

It had been easy to convince Jack and Sarah Jane to go along with his plan, because everyone who knew Rose knew she was hanging by a thread, even if she didn't.  It had made complete sense in his head; separate Ian from Rose, temporarily, and ensure that she had the time and space needed to at least come to terms with her own grief.  Plus, he'd promised Jack that he would never be more than a phone call away.  But practical applications tend to yield different results than theoretical; in this case, he hadn't anticipated the way his heart would break for her when her pain overwhelmed her.

She hadn't heard his muffled apology back at the flat, which was probably for the best at the time.  If she'd known then what he'd done, he wouldn't have been able to get her in the car, much less tax her limits the way he had...another action weighing heavily on his mind.

He'd have to tell her.  That's all there was to it.  Then again, if he did...she might hate him, and he wasn't at all sure he was prepared to cope with that scenario.

Her voice cut through his stormy thoughts, and it sounded like a question, although he couldn't figure out what she'd been asking if his life depended on it.

"Sorry?"

"I asked if you were hungry," she repeated patiently for him.  "Cause I'm starved, and I think there's a diner up ahead."

He glanced at her, then down the road at a place that looked like it could either be full of charm or the setting of a horror movie, depending on the time of day. "Really?"

"C'mon, live a little," she said, then flashed a tongue in teeth grin that nearly caused him to run Bessie off the road.

"Right you are, Ms Smith," he said, his voice only a little higher than normal.  "Breakfast it is."

Afterwards, he'd tell her the truth.  He could be allowed to enjoy a last meal before she beheaded him, surely.

"Can I ask you something, Rose?" he inquired after they'd been loaded down with a proper breakfast fry up at the thankfully quaint and not at all murdery diner.  She nodded without looking up from her eggs, making a "go on" gesture with her fork.  "How long were you and John married?"

Her eyes flashed to his then, and he waited for the tell tale stiffness to come back.  After a moment, though, she looked back down at her food.  "Two and a half years."

"That's all?"

"Look, I know it doesn't seem like much--"

"That's not what I meant," he cut in quickly, reaching across the table to brush his fingers over her arm in an effort to stay her defenses.  "I just mean... Well, obviously, no time would really be considered sufficient.  Just ask my granddad.  But two and a half years... You barely got a beginning.  It's really no wonder you're angry."

She watched him warily, trying to judge his sincerity.  "Yeah," she agreed finally, and James let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as she relaxed again.  "We knew each other for nearly a year before that, though.  Ian's birthday is actually the anniversary of when we first met, back when I was working at this little coffee shop near the university." A smile crept to her lips as she looked out the window.  "He used to say he planned it that way, because what better anniversary gift than that little miracle?  And you know, I half believed him--if anyone could control the world around him through sheer willpower, it was him.  He'd just glare at reality til it changed to suit his purposes."  The smile faltered as sadness entered her eyes again, until she cleared her throat and gave James a slightly sheepish shrug.  "It all seemed terribly romantic at the time."

James' mouth dropped open as he tried to wrap his head around the enormity of it all.  Forget angry, he was stunned that she held herself together at all.  The idea of not even being able to celebrate her son's birthday without a substantial amount of pain was devastating... No wonder she'd closed herself off so completely.

"You know, you think you're terrible, or weak, or whatever, but I don't know a whole lot of people who could weather what you have and still be standing," he observed, shaking his head when she looked up at him with puzzled expression.  "You amaze me."

It was her turn to be caught off guard, jaw falling a little as she waited for a “but” that he wasn’t going to provide her.  She swallowed hard after a moment, cheeks flushing as she looked down and tried to collect herself.  She smiled brightly when she raised her eyes again.

“So, how’s Donna doing?” she asked, and James smiled at the obvious attempt to shift the focus off of her.  “Her and Lee are at the mutual gift stage?”

“Apparently,” he said with a shrug, digging back into his own breakfast.  “Evidently, he’s gotten over whatever had him being more of a gentleman than was good for him.  I wonder if Donna made good on her threat to push him against a wall and snog him…”

“Would she actually do that?” Rose asked with a laugh.

“Oh yes.  Never underestimate Donna’s ability to get what she wants,” he warned.  “Trust me.”

“Must be genetic,” Rose replied thoughtfully.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he deadpanned, and her answering laugh was worth a thousand sleepless nights and early morning drives to the coast.

oOoOo

On the drive back to Rose’s flat, he thought he did a decent job of staying tuned to the conversation, although the argument he’d once again started with himself in his head was incredibly distracting.  On the one hand, he should absolutely tell her the truth, no question, come what may.  On the other hand, in the aftermath of her coastal breakdown, Rose was more relaxed in his presence than she’d ever been, and he really didn’t want to lose that.  On the _other_ other hand...why did she insist on being so maddeningly difficult to _begin_ with?

Silence fell in the car as he pulled to a stop in the car park in front of her flat, and James stared at his hands on the wheel.  Just _tell_ her.

“Listen, Rose--”

“D’you want a coffee?” she asked at the same time, and his head snapped around.

“I--what?”

“Coffee,” she repeated slowly.  “You know, dark stuff?  Lots of caffeine?  Lots of milk and sugar if you’re me?”  She glanced up at the flat for an instant before returning her gaze to him, shifting uncomfortably.  “I just...I don’t...really want to be...alone just yet.”

He stared at her, his brain locking up around the singular detail that the same woman who had raged at him for buying a booster seat without consulting her and was confused by leftovers was actually asking him to stay because she needed someone.  That, and the fact that he was reasonably sure that if she asked him for an island at that point, he’d find a way to procure one for her in an hour--coffee was nothing.

“Yeah, I could do that,” he managed, tugging at his ear and looking up at the flat and trying to ignore the way that the words had come out more as a squeak than anything.  “Coffee’s good.  I like coffee.”

“Great!”

She flashed a smile before getting out of the car, and he closed his eyes, pausing to mentally slap himself before following more slowly.

“Sorry,” she said as she unlocked the door and led him inside.  “Were you going to say something in the car?”

“I...no,” he replied, shaking his head and closing the door again behind them.  “Nothing important.”

“Sure?”

“Yep.  Absolutely.  Nothing at all.”

“Okay,” she said, giving him an odd look, then peeled off her jacket and headed for the kitchen.  “You wanna maybe pick out a film?”

“Yeah, sure,” he called after her, then shook his head as he shrugged out of his own jacket.

Later.  He’d tell her later.

He perused her film collection while she got the coffee ready, and was sitting on the sofa watching the opening credits of his selection when she walked in and handed him a mug.  She turned toward the television, smiling when she recognized the flick.

“ _Singin’ in the Rain_ ,” she observed.  “Good call.”

“Naturally,” he smirked, leaning back with his arm along the sofa back.

She sat down next to him, leaning toward him as she curled her legs underneath her.  He watched her out of the corner of his eye, holding her mug with both hands as she raised it to her lips to blow on the hot liquid before taking a drink.

“Did I say thank you?” she asked after a few minutes.

He hummed in question, the sleepless nights finally catching up to him and making everything a bit fuzzy around the edges.  “Oh.  None necessary.  I told you, you can call me anytime.”

“Still,” she insisted, turning her head and looking up at him.  “Thanks.”

He watched her for a moment, part of him wondering if she’d still be thanking him if she knew that he was the reason she’d been alone in the first place...while another small, terrifying part of him badly wanted to lean in and kiss away all her unhappy thoughts.  It made no sense, given past experience and the fact that he knew more now how completely unprepared she was for any sort of relationship beyond friends, and that should have been enough to deter any feelings on his part.  Clearly logic was something that just gave up around Rose Smith, however, and his eyes dropped traitorously to her mouth for an instant before he swallowed hard.

“You’re welcome,” he said finally, his voice only a little rough.

She gave him a small smile, then turned back to the telly, resting her head on his shoulder.  It felt disturbingly natural to lower his arm from the sofa back to encircle her, almost as much as the kiss he pressed to her hair before turning back to the film himself.

About half way through, his eyelids started drooping, and he realized that if he didn’t leave soon, he’d never make it all the way back to Chiswick.  He looked down to say something to Rose, only to realize she’d already fallen asleep.  He watched her for a moment, her face completely relaxed in sleep, and taking in the dark circles brought on by countless nightmares and panic.  He eased the empty mug out of her slack fingers, setting it down on the side table with his own before shifting her gently until he was laying back on the sofa with her nestled against his chest.  He probably could have gotten away with laying her down on the sofa and leaving a note before heading home, but he rationalized the decision with not wanting her to wake up alone in what was undoubtedly still a fragile state.

As she made a small noise in her sleep and cuddled deeper into his side, he admitted in the quiet of his own head that it would take a stronger man than him to walk away from Rose.

oOoOo

The early afternoon sun was slanting into the flat when James and Rose finally awoke. Her sheepish smile about falling asleep on top of him made him chuckle, but also made the guilt gnawing at him grow even stronger.  He’d expected her to retreat behind her defenses when she woke up refreshed and back on her own soil, as it were, but he was quickly coming to the realization that Rose was never going to act the way he’d expect.  She wasn’t...happy, exactly, although she was smiling easier; it was more that she just seemed a little more free and relaxed, not having to _pretend_ that she was happy.  Which was good, obviously, and a Machiavellian voice in his head claimed that whatever had brought this about then had to be good as well, or at least not so terrible.  And after all, he hadn’t actually _lied_ to her, just sort of...allowed her to be mislead.  If she actually _asked_ if he’d had any part in the way the weekend had played out, he’d obviously be honest with her.

_But why the hell would she ask that?_ another voice asked, sounding suspiciously like his big sister.  _Cause who would even think that?  Who **does** that?  A mental person does that.  Is that what you are now, Spaceman?  Completely bleeding mental, that’s you, rationalizing things that no one could possibly understand because they’re **BLOODY. MENTAL.**_

“You alright?”

James started as Rose’s voice broke into his thoughts, and he cut his eyes to her before swallowing hard.  He set the tea down that she’d made him and turned in his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands in front of him.

“Rose, I need to tell you something,” he started carefully.

“That sounds ominous,” she said, watching him warily as she turned to face him more fully.

“Well...here’s the thing,” he said.  “Um.  It wasn’t...exactly a coincidence that your boss gave you the same weekend off that Jack asked to take Ian.”

“What do you mean?”

"I...asked Jack to take Ian," he explained.

"But he asked to take Ian before Sarah had even told me about my vacation days," Rose said with a confused frown.

"I know," James said slowly as he watched her face.  "I talked to Sarah Jane, too."

"What are you--"  She stopped as realization dawned.  "I didn't have any vacation days."

"Not...as such.  You'll still get paid for them," he added quickly as she looked down, shaking her head slowly.  "I made sure of that.  Well, Friday and Monday, at any rate.  Weekends are weekends and don't really...count."  He waited a beat, but she remained silent and still as stone.  "Rose?"

"Why?" Her voice sounded strangled, and it tore at his heart.

_Way to go, Spaceman._

"I just...thought...that you could use some time off."

“And you didn’t think I should be consulted about that?” she snapped, her eyes flashing to his.

“Rose--”

“You had _no_ right,” she said hotly, surging to her feet.  “None.”

He held his hands up in surrender, standing slowly.  “I was only trying to help.”

“How?” she demanded.  “By manipulating me?  By taking my son away from me?”

“I didn’t take Ian away!” he snapped back, frustration rising as she moved out of reach, both figuratively and literally.  “He’s at Jack’s, safe and sound, he’ll be back Monday night.”

“It doesn’t matter!” she shouted.  “It doesn’t change the fact that you had people lie for you to...what, exactly?  I don’t _need_ time off, I didn’t ask for it.”

“You pretty obviously did,” he reminded her hotly.  “Given the last twelve hours.”

“Was that your plan?” she asked.  “Hoped I’d break down and call you?  Well mission _fucking_ accomplished.  Now get the hell out.”

“Rose--”

“Go!”

James’ jaw tightened, and they stared each other down for a moment before he looked away, shaking his head.  He spun on his heel and strode for the door, but paused with his hand on the handle before he yanked it open.  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath...he could leave now, he could take the fuck off, let her be as angry and self-destructive as she wanted, because she clearly didn’t want his help or anyone else’s.

Because she didn’t think she deserved it.

Cursing himself, he let go of the handle and turned back to her.  “Look, you might be right.  I overstepped my bounds, and you have every right to be angry.  And if you want me to go and never come back, fine, I’ll do that.  But not before I say something, and you’re gonna listen.”  He buried his hands in his pockets, mind whirring as it tried to keep up with his mouth, because he needed to get this right.  “Cause I know you didn’t ask for my help, or anyone else’s, and whether that’s because you don’t think you deserve it or because you don’t think anyone really cares or because you don’t think they’re actually gonna stick around to be there when you need them or...all three, probably, it doesn’t matter, cause you’re wrong.”  He took a few steps toward her, not enough to invade her space, just enough to put him closer to her than the door behind him.  “Because it doesn’t matter how much you try to keep people at a distance, it’s not going to stop them from caring about you.  And they do.  I know I do...probably more than I should, but that’s beside the point.  And it’s not because you’re weak, or because I pity you, or have some sort of hero complex...I think.”  She let out a small snort despite herself, and it bolstered him to continue.  “It’s because...you’re amazing.  Because I see how hard you work every day to take care of your son, to provide for him and to make him feel loved.  Because I see you put aside _everything_ , every piece of daily frustration or long term bitterness, because his happiness is that important to you.  Because you listen to _everything_ he says, because if it’s interesting to him, it’s interesting to you.  Because you’ve been through so much, more than most, way more than you should ever have had to endure, and you still get out of bed in the morning, and you still smile, whether you actually feel it or not.  And because there are moments, scattered around and way too rare, that your armor falls away and you smile, and it’s real, and...and you’re beautiful.”  She looked up at him then, eyes wide and strangely bright as her mouth fell open a little.  “You’re beautiful, Rose, and everyone around you can see it.  I just wish you could too.”

She continued to stare at him, a crease forming between her brows as her mouth moved soundlessly.  Finally, he shrugged, raising one hand to the back of his neck uncomfortably as he took a long breath.

“Anyway,” he said, looking away.  “That was my goal.  Last night...I honestly didn’t know what to expect, but I swear, I wasn’t trying to orchestrate your mental breakdown or anything.  I _do_ still think that it’s good for you to admit what you’re feeling, and own it, and realize that it’s okay to not... _always_ be okay, but that wasn’t my aim.”

“What was?”

His eyes snapped up to her to see her watching him warily, but at least not with outright hostility anymore.  “Today,” he told her, dropping his hand, then tilted his head a little.  “Well, the way you were today before I made you angry again.  Rose unwound,” he said softly.  “But I clearly went about it the wrong way.  Microwave and burnt food,” he added with a shrug, and thought he caught the ghost of a smile hover at the corners of her mouth briefly at the reference from...oh, months ago now.  “I’m sorry, Rose.  I’ll just...see myself out.”

Rose nodded a little, her face impassive again, and he turned once more for the door.  As he closed it behind him and made for the stairs to the car park, he wondered where this would leave them on Tuesday.  Either she'd call him before then and tell him in a chilly tone that she no longer needed him, or she'd retreat once more behind her barriers, acting like nothing had happened at all.  He couldn't say anymore which reaction he'd hate more.

oOoOo

Rose spent most of the afternoon stewing and trying to figure out what she was going to do about James.  It made her furious that he just didn’t know when to stop, taking all these choices, _her_ choices, upon himself as if he knew better than her what was best for her.  The complete arrogance of him having her son removed and her job taken away without any sort of warning, like she was just some bloody child who couldn’t make her own decisions, was just unbelievable.

She nearly called Jack as soon as the door clicked shut behind James, but thought better of it just before dialing.  If she had him bring Ian home early, it would only serve to worry both them.  Plus, there was a substantial amount of shame that she needed to somehow compartmentalize before seeing Jack again, knowing that he’d gone along with this stupid scheme for her alleged good.

And _then_ , to top it all off, James had had to go and make that stupid speech, that completely idiotic and sort of wonderful ramble about _why_ he’d done it, why he’d even bloody bothered, and it made her want to scream, cause he always did this.  Everytime she thought she’d figured him out, everytime she figured out exactly where the safe zone was, he mucked it all up and left her completely unbalanced.  Because what he’d done was bad, but his intentions were good, and she just didn’t get _why_ , despite his platitudes, because he had no reason to.

_You’re beautiful, Rose, and everyone around you can see it.  I just wish you could too._

Well that was just...unfair.

She spent hours cleaning things that weren’t really dirty and muttering angrily to herself about idiotic geniuses before taking a long shower, because why not.  As she stood under the hot water and let it soothe some of her tension, she had to admit that she had felt better after her screaming session on the coast.  She’d actually been able to talk about John for a few minutes without feeling like she was tearing apart at the seams; she'd chalked it up to emotional exhaustion at the time, but maybe it was something else.  And she hated to admit it, but the nap on the sofa was, sadly, probably some of the best sleep she’d had in weeks.  Waking up to someone’s arms around her hadn’t hurt either.

He had no right making her feel so secure, when he was the _last_ person who could really offer her any security.  Not that she needed any, and especially not from him.

It was as she was towelling her hair dry that it occurred to her that he hadn’t had any reason to tell her the truth.  Jack wouldn’t mention it, because he wouldn’t want to upset her, and Sarah Jane had no reason to let on, though why her _boss_ had agreed to all this, she’d never know.  Point was...James could have stayed silent, and she probably never would have been the wiser.  So why had he come clean?

With a groan, she padded back into her bedroom and picked up her phone, fiddling with it for a moment before taking a deep breath and dialing.

James’ tone was guarded and wary when he answered.  “Hello?”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I...I told you--”

“No, not the...that,” she said, making a vague gesture with her hand.  “Why’d you tell me?”

James sighed, and Rose could picture him running his hand down his face.  “Because I felt guilty, and I didn’t want to run the risk of you finding out somewhere else and feeling like you couldn’t trust me.”

“But you telling me made me not trust you,” she said slowly.

“Yeah,” he replied.  “Didn’t quite think that through.  I have a problem with that sometimes.”

“Oh, d’you think?” she snapped, flopping back on her bed.

“You can still trust me,” he said.  “I screwed up, yeah, but I wasn’t going to leave you to deal with it on your own either.  Or do you think I answer texts from anyone at four in the morning?”

“How should I know?”

“Look, Rose--I’m sorry.  Honestly, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I swear, I never meant to hurt you.  That’s the last thing I want.  I was only trying to help.”

Rose remembered the weird after-the-storm type calm she’d felt earlier, when she’d actually been able to breathe.  As horrible as the night before had been, it _had_ helped...and he’d been trying to make it right by telling her.  She sighed, lowering the phone to her chest and letting her head fall back on her pillows.  When she heard his muffled voice calling her name, she raised the phone to her ear again without lifting her head.

“I’m still mad at you,” she informed him.

“...okay.”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“Inarguably.”

“But...you had some pretty good intentions, misguided or not,” she admitted.  “And...I appreciate the fact that you were honest with me.  I’m not thanking you for that, mind, because it was really the least you could do.”

“I wouldn’t expect it,” he replied quickly.  “So am I at least on the _path_ to forgiveness?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, narrowing her eyes.  “How’d you get Sarah Jane to go along with all this anyway?  She can’t have been thrilled with the idea of paying out of pocket for vacation time I didn’t actually have.”

“Oh...that,” he said, and she couldn’t help smiling a little as she pictured him tugging at his ear uncomfortably.  “Well...I might have...helped cover that.”

“You payed for my vacation time.”

“Little bit, yeah.”

A chuckle of disbelief escaped her lips.  “So part of what I paid you last week for tutoring my son went back to my boss to pay for me to have unscheduled days off.”

“That about sums it up, yeah,” he admitted, his voice a little squeaky.

“Well, can’t say I’m not getting a return on my investment,” she joked, rolling her eyes.

“Very good with money, me,” he replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  “Did you call Jack?”

“No,” she said, tilting her head to look at her hand as she picked at a loose thread on her robe.  “No sense in cutting Ian’s guys’ weekend short because I was annoyed.”

“Brilliant!”  She narrowed her eyes a little as he hastily added, “Not that you were annoyed, obviously.  Or possibly are still annoyed.  Just that you let Ian stay with Jack, since I know he was looking forward to it.  Plus I’ve got this...well, hang on, how angry are you with me still?  Scale of one to ten?”

She raised her eyes to her headboard as she tried to determine that.  Truthfully, not much.  Talking to him had a calming effect that she’d rather not examine too closely, partly because of the small bit of anger that was still simmering.

“Ohhh...I dunno.  About a four?”

“Really?” he asked, sounding delighted and stunned.

“Would you like me to raise it higher?” she demanded sharply.

“No!  No, four’s good.  I like four.  I can work with four.  It’s just that I’m going to this...film thing tomorrow,” he explained.  “It’s artsy and probably too pretentious for words, but I thought...maybe...if you weren’t doing anything else...you’d like to come?”  She was quiet, debating how bad of an idea that would actually be.  Things were already bizarre and complicated with him...but she also wasn’t thrilled with the idea of spending the whole day alone either.  And there was that calming way about him that she didn’t like to think about.  “Rose?  We can have chips.”

She laughed then despite herself, biting her lip a moment as a smile found it’s way to her mouth.  “Alright, but you’re buying.  Since, you know, you’re still at a four.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.  I’ll see you at...oh...eleven?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“And listen...Rose…”  He paused uncertainly.

“Yeah?”

“Sleep well, yeah?  And...call me if you don’t.”

She swallowed hard at the sudden concern and sincerity in his voice.  “Yeah.  Thanks.  Sleep tight, James.”

oOoOo

“So how do you think it went?” Ianto asked Jack Monday afternoon while Ian packed his things.

“She’s still alive,” Jack said with a shrug.  “I just let her know we’re going to be leaving soon, and she texted back that she was looking forward to seeing him, and she’s answered all the phone calls before bed, and sounded mostly okay.”

“But since it’s Rose, that could mean anything from actually okay to laying in a full body cast full of hornets,” Ianto added.

Jack only shrugged as Ian found them, backpack already on his shoulders.  “All set, kiddo?”

“Uh huh,” Ian said, bouncing a little on his feet.  “Uncle Jack, can we bring some of the biscuits we made for Mummy?  So she doesn’t get sad that she missed out.”

“Absolutely,” Jack replied, grinning as Ianto picked up the tin he’d already packed for Rose and handed it to the little boy.

“You didn’t think I’d forget about your mum, did you?”

“Thanks, Ianto!” Ian said happily.

“Alright, come on, little man,” Jack said, steering Ian toward the door.  “Let’s get you home to your mom before she starts organizing a search party.”

Ian chatted happily in the back, zipping through different things he wanted to tell Rose and James about from his weekend, the whole way to Rose’s flat.  Jack exchanged a few amused glances with Ianto, squeezing the hand he held over the gear shift, until he had to let go to maneuver the car into a parking spot.

Once freed from the car again, Ian ran up the stairs to Rose’s flat, while Jack and Ianto followed more slowly, both feeling a little worn out from spending the weekend with an energetic six and a half year old.

“You know, there’s nothing quite like a weekend with Ian to remind me that I should really stick to pets,” Ianto murmured as they reached Rose’s floor to find Ian already pushing the door open and squealing in delight on seeing Rose.

“Well, you just let me know if you get any sort of paternal urges,” Jack replied.  “I’ll make sure to bring home a cat for you.”

They stepped into the apartment to see Rose on her knees in front of Ian, smiling softly with her eyes wide as he spoke ten miles a minute.

“Oh, and we made biscuits!” Ian said suddenly, pushing the tin at her.  “They’re chocolate, and I wanted you to have some.  Ianto packed them.”

“Thanks, Ianto,” she said, flashing a grin up at him.  Something about it made Jack pause and glance at Ianto, who was nodding back at Rose with a small smile.  “Ian, love, why don’t you go put your stuff down.  There _might_ be a surprise in your room.”

“ _Really_?”  Ian spun around at breakneck speed and sprinted for his room.  Ianto nudged Jack’s arm and nodded at the table, where two mugs were sitting.  “Oh _wow_!  Mummy!”  Ian came running back out with a photo in one hand and what appeared to be a small Roman soldier in the other, nearly knocking Rose over with the force of his hug.  “Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me,” she laughed.  “Thank James tomorrow.  He brought those over for you.  I think there was a note somewhere--”

“ _Cool!_ ”

He ran back into his room, and the sounds of him directing his troops soon followed.  Rose laughed, shaking her head at Jack and Ianto as she got to her feet.

“Do you guys want tea or anything?” she asked.

“Looks like you already had some,” Jack said, with a pointed look at the table.

“Oh...yeah,” Rose said, glancing back at the table before returning her gaze to them.  “James stayed for a cuppa when he brought the autograph and toys for Ian.”

“Nice of him,” Jack remarked.  “To bring the stuff.  Who was the autograph of?”

Rose smiled again, an easy smile, and Jack’s brow creased.  “Elpheba.  Ian’s been pretty much in love with her since he saw Wicked.”

“What’s not to love?” Jack teased.  “We should really get going though, dinner reservations.”

“Oh, right, okay,” she said.  “Was he okay this weekend?  Not too much trouble?”

“Nah,” Jack said.

“I doubt we have anything remotely resembling junk food left,” Ianto remarked drily.  “But he was good, and I think he had fun between sugar crashes.”

“Good to know,” she replied with a laugh.

“How was your weekend, Rose?” Jack asked, watching her closely.

“It was...good,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully.  “Yeah.  It was good.  Thanks for taking him.”

“Anytime,” Jack replied, then turned to Ian’s door.  “Hey, little man, think you could call a truce long enough to say goodbye to Ianto and me?”

Ian barrelled out of his room to hug both men quickly before attempting another quick retreat, but Rose called him back.

“Hey!  What do you say?”

Ian whirled back around to them.  “Thank you for having me.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Jack said with a grin.

Ian looked back at Rose, who rolled her eyes and nodded.  Ian glanced back at Ianto and Jack with a quick “Bye!” before darting away again.

“We’ve been replaced with plastic,” Ianto observed.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” Jack said with a grin.

“Oh my god,” Rose groaned, then waved them at the door.  “Right, okay, you’ve clearly reached your limit of kid friendly conversation.”

“You make that sound like he’s ever had that ability,” Ianto remarked.

“I...don’t wanna know,” she said, stepping closer to exchange a cheek kiss with Jack and hug Ianto.  “Thanks again.  Have fun at dinner.”

Rose closed the door behind them as they left the flat, and they exchanged a glance before simultaneously looking back at the door.

“Well, she certainly _looked_ like Rose,” Ianto said slowly.  “Perhaps...Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”

“I think it might be a little more Earthly,” Jack replied, pulling out his phone as they made their way to the stairs.  It wasn’t even that Rose had been _all_ that different, but there was...something.  Somewhere between the relaxed line of her shoulders and the ease of her smile, how it more closely matched the smile he dimly remembered from years ago, before life had given it hard edges.

“Y’ello.”

“And how was your weekend, Jamie?” Jack asked into the phone.

“Good,” the other man said, a little too casually.  “Yeah.  Yeah, it was...good.”

“Nice of you to bring by those things for Ian,” he tried.

“Oh, did he like them?” James asked happily.  “Every Emperor needs an army.  And that actress was tickled pink when I told her Ian was basically set on marrying her as soon as he’s of legal age.”

“I’m sure,” Jack said.  “And...that’s the only reason you were at the flat?”

“Why else would I be?”

Jack shot Ianto a look at the guarded tone as they got in the car, and his boyfriend just shook his head.  Jack sighed, giving up all pretense.  “Did she call you this weekend?”  There was silence on the other end that did nothing to ease his confusion.  “Jamie?”

“Yeah,” James said.  “Yeah, she called.”

“Was she...okay?”

“Not...really,” James said slowly.  “But...I _think_ she’s doing a little better now.”

“What happened?” Jack demanded, plugging his phone into the speaker of the car before pulling out.

“She just...got some things off her chest.  Things that needed to be said.”

“Such as?”

“Jack.”

Jack huffed out an annoyed breath.  “I can’t ask?”

“You can _ask_ ,” James said.  “But I’m not going to tell you.  She was upset enough when she found out how this whole weekend came about.  I’m not going to tempt fate by giving up her confidence.”

“You told her?” Jack asked, stunned.

“Yeah.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because she deserved the truth.”  James sighed into the phone.  “Look, I’m not going to go into details, but it’s probably nothing you couldn’t guess.  She’s angry, and in a lot of pain, and honestly has just such a completely skewed perception of herself, which is tragic because she’s just--”  Jack’s eyebrows shot up, as James stopped, taking an audible breath.  “Anyway.  I think getting some of it out helped, hopefully enough to actually start working through it.”

“Hopefully.”  Jack shot another look at Ianto, who had his eyes narrowed at the phone.  “You gonna be around for that?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” James said.  “I thought I told you that.  There’s too much going on here right now.”

“Right,” Jack replied, then sighed.  “You’ll let me know if there’s anything I _need_ to know?”

“Yeah.”

Jack hung up after quick goodbyes were exchanged, and he and Ianto sat in silence for a moment as he drove.  Ianto was the first one to break it.

“How much time do you think he actually spent with her this weekend?”

“No idea.”

“He’s in love with her.”

“Yep.”

“Does he _know_ he’s in love with her?”

“Not sure.”

“Do you think she’s in love with him?”

“Don’t know.”

“She might fall in love with him, if she hasn’t already.”

“Yeah.”

“Remind me to stock up on tissues and whiskey,” Ianto sighed.  “Top shelf.”


	19. A Time to Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited because FOR SOME REASON the formatting was completely jacked up and made just a wall of text when I wasn't paying attention. Sorry guys.

"James, can you stay for dinner?" Ian asked over breakfast on Wednesday morning, and Rose stiffened with her hands tight around her coffee from where she leaned against the kitchen door jam.  The weekend had been...well, lovely, really, but they hadn't really talked about how that might affect things later with Ian, or even if it should.  Things had gotten complicated enough before.

“I’m game,” James replied with a shrug.  “So long as it’s okay with your mum.”

He looked up from his notebook, lips twitching as Ian turned to Rose with puppy dog eyes.  “Can he, Mummy?”

“I...don’t know,” she said slowly, looking between them uncertainly.

“Pleeeease Mummy,” Ian begged, his little face earnest as he clasped his hands together in supplication.

“I hate to see a child beg, don’t you?” James asked, and she snorted at the humor dancing in his eyes.

“I’m sure,” she said dryly, then sighed.  “Fine, he can stay.”

“Thank you, Mummy!” Ian shouted, jumping up from his chair and darting over to hug her around the waist.

“You’re welcome, Scrunchkin.”  She smiled and tousled his hair fondly before looking back up at James.  “James, a word?”

“Of course,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips as he stood.  “Be with you in a minute, little man, and we’ll talk about what we’re going to do today.”

Ian made a small sound of acknowledgement as he sat back down and immersed himself again in his eggs and a book.  Rose shook her head with a small smile before turning and leading James into the kitchen.

"You don't have to stay, you know," she said when the door closed behind him.  "Ian'll be okay."

"I wouldn't have agreed if I didn't want to be here," he replied, tilting his head a little as he watched her.

"Yeah, alright.". She shrugged, picking at her nails.  "Only...you were the one who said we needed to keep things professional, yeah?"

"I did," he agreed, tugging on his ear with one hand while he buried the other in his pocket.  "I did say that, yeah." He studied her a moment before releasing his ear to stuff his other hand in his pocket, rolling his spine as he rocked back on his heels.  "The thing is, things got...complicated for a while between us. And that was mostly my fault.  But, you know, we've gotten some distance from that, the dust has settled, and more than anything, I still genuinely enjoy spending time with you and Ian."

"Yeah?" she asked, chewing on her thumbnail as he straightened his shoulders.

"Yes."

"As much as you enjoy avoiding your family?" she joked in a halfhearted attempt to ease the tension.

"Ohhh, that's tough," he replied, raising his eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully as he considered this.  "I think you might actually win out against that particular compulsion."

"That is saying something," she laughed.

He hummed in agreement, nodding his head.  "It really is.  But you have to figure, there's a million ways I could avoid my family...but only a handful that involve spending time with you." Something about the way he said it and the soft expression made her feel flushed, and she looked down quickly.  "So are we good?"

"Yeah," she managed, only sounding a little breathless when she met his gaze again.

"Brilliant," he said, beaming at her, then added with mock impatience, "Now get to work. You're not going to be able to pay me if we stand around talking all day."

Rose rolled her eyes and fought a smile.  "Yeah, cause we all know you'd be destitute without that check."

"Absolutely," he said.  "Glad that you've finally come to terms with your place in the economic cycle."

"You're an idiot," she laughed as he grinned at her, his tongue sliding over his upper teeth.

"You like it," he replied, and she shook her head with a sigh as she moved past him to finish getting ready for work.

oOoOo

"So I've got to ask," James said that night after they put Ian  to bed.  "Who named Zippo?"

Rose laughed as they walked toward the dining room.  "That was John.  I was still pregnant when he came home with Zippo.  I was having the worst day, cranky and sore and big as a bleeding house, then he comes bounding in with that thing, beaming like he's Father Christmas.  Said some fathers get their kids dogs to guard them, but his son was getting a dragon."

"Think about it, Rose. Anyone can have a dog, but how many boys can say they've got a pet dragon? Father of the year, me."

Rose cleared her throat, trying without much success to ignore the way that the memory hit her like a sledgehammer.

"Anyway," she went on shakily, looking down at the hand she had resting on the back of a chair to avoid James' gaze.  "He started calling it Zippo, said if he ever started smoking it could pull double duty as a cigarette lighter."

A vision of his proud smile assaulted her mind's eye again, and she was horrified to feel a tear track down her cheek. Usually she could keep it in, but ever since Saturday night, she felt her control breaking down.  Even Ian had noticed, stopping what he was doing the night before to hug her and tell her he loved her when she got all teary at a sappy commercial.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, swiping at her cheek ineffectually as more tears fell.  "I don't know what's wrong with me.  I've been crying at everything."

James' hand came up to her cheek, catching a tear with his thumb.  Part of him regretted bringing it up at all, having a visceral hatred for anything that made Rose cry, but after the years she'd kept herself so tightly wound, he had already realized that she might end up a little fragile if she actually let some of it out and relaxed a little. She'd been keeping a lot in... It all had to come out somewhere.

"It's alright," he murmured, moving his hand behind her head and pulling it down to his chest as he wrapped his other arm around her.  "Sounds like he really loved Ian."

"Yeah," she sniffled.

"And you, too," he added, and she lifted her head to give him a confused look.  "You can't tell me he didn't know how uncomfortable you were.  That wasn't just for Ian."

"Probably not," she agreed, a crease forming between her brows as she considered this.  "Never really thought of that."

"It's a good memory to have of him," he said, and the shaky smile she gave him warmed him like a shot of whiskey.  He cleared his throat as he dropped his arms and stepped away, glancing back at the telly.  "Come on.  Good memory or not, seems like you could use a laugh."

"Don't you need to get home?" she asked with a frown, but he shook his head as he took her hand and tugged her into the living room.

"Nah. Don't sleep, remember? And I'm fairly certain even you could last another couple of hours."

He didn't leave any room for argument as he put on a well known comedy about King Arthur, and she gave up as he sat down on the sofa with a pointed look up at her. As the opening credits spiraled into ridiculousness, she giggled and laid her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her hair, feeling more sure that he'd made the right decision. He was certain that her nightmares hadn't relinquished their hold on her, but there was no way he was going to help them along by leaving when she was crying about John.

oOoOo

The next week, James asked to stay for dinner on Tuesday as well, claiming that he wanted to make up for the weeks he'd missed. Rose agreed, figuring that his mother must be driving him more crazy than usual, and Ian's shout of happiness when James told him made it worthwhile.

They got to talking after putting Ian to bed on Wednesday, and he didn't end up leaving until a little after midnight, with his strong parting hug lingering long after she went to bed herself.

The following night, however, her nightmares returned with a vengeance.  She made tea with shaking hands, then sat down at the dining room table and stared at her phone for a moment. He said she could call anytime, right?  But it wasn't the crippling panic that she'd had over the weekend, so she really shouldn't bother him. He had to sleep sometimes, right? With her luck, if she called him, it would be the one night he actually fell asleep at a normal time, and then she'd feel guilty forever.  She tightened her grip on the warm mug, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes--only to snap them open again at the vision of a dying John.

She gave in, then, snatching her phone up and dialing quickly before she could talk herself out of it again.

"Good evening, Ms. Smith," James greeted her as he answered the phone.

"It's two am," she said, narrowing her eyes a little.

"Good morning, Ms. Smith," he replied without missing a beat, but then paused.  "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," she said, carrying her tea into the dining room and taking a seat at the table.  "Yeah, I just..."

"Couldn't sleep?" he suggested when she hesitated.

"Yeah."

"Do you need me to come over?"

Rose shook her head vigorously as she swallowed a mouthful of tea.  "No!  No, I'm fine.  I just..."

Just wanted to hear your voice sounded too cliche in her head, and really, who just called people to talk anymore?  Both were accurate, but revealed a neediness that she wasn't equipped to cope with.  She bit her lip, regretting calling him at all.

"You should try BBC four," he sad after a moment, cutting into her thoughts.

"What?"

"There's a special on the universe," he told her.  "Wildly inaccurate--apparently the powers that be have decided that making it accessible to laymen is more important than, say, actual scientific data--but it could certainly put anyone to sleep."

Rose stood and walked into the living room, turning on the television and flipping to the right channel before dropping the remote and curling up on the sofa.

"So what's so inaccurate?" she asked.

"Assume everything," he replied.  "We'll narrow it down from there."

They watched the special together for an hour while James kept Rose in giggles through his various ranting corrections.  She was worried she's wake Ian up when he claimed that these so called astronomers just misspelled astrologists on their CV, catapulting him into another rant about astrology and how it was clearly made up on the spot.  By the time she rang off, she felt sleepy and calm again, and crawled into bed for a few more blessedly dreamless hours of sleep.

The next day, James suggested they all go out for dinner and to see a film, claiming that Rose could use some time out of the flat that wasn't work related.  Rose was a little wary at first, because she was once again aware that, were it not for Ian, the evening would smack of a date.  However, apart from brushing her shoulder once or twice during the film and a hug at the end of the evening, he didn't try anything.

The next week was much the same, with James staying for dinner on Tuesday and Wednesday night, although he did stay to talk with Rose after Ian went to bed both nights.  On Friday, he offered to take them out to dinner again, but also suggested that Rose invite Jack and Ianto as well.  Jack sounded a little stunned at the invite when she called him from work, but quickly accepted.  James and Rose agreed not to tell Ian--first because they weren't sure if the couple would be free, then because it would make for a nice surprise--and Ian's running hug at them made Rose smile.

She'd always thought of Jack and Ianto as sort of the odd couple, since Ianto seemed so much more reserved than Jack most of the time, but dinner revealed his ability to be nearly as ridiculous as Jack, if a bit more subtle.  The two played off each other well, and between them and James, Rose was laughing most of the way through dinner, even though half of what the men said went over Ian's head completely.

It was James' proposal that had them all trooping back to Rose's flat after dinner.  Jack and Ianto stopped at the store on the way over, and Ian helped Ianto make brownies for what turned out to be Ianto's perfected brownie volcano, with ice cream and molten chocolate syrup.  It started a long discussion about Pompeii over a game of cards that Ian roundly trounced the adults in, although Rose protested that it was the wine Jack kept filling her glass with that made her lose so badly.  Jack's only response was to pour her another glass and suggest that they start playing for money.

She didn't realize how late it was until she saw Ian asleep on the sofa, and immediately felt guilty despite her forethought to at least have put him in his pajamas earlier.  James told her not to worry about it and carried Ian to his room, but the party broke up shortly after anyway.  Jack and Ianto both thanked her for including them as they left, but Rose frowned in confusion when Jack murmured “Missed you” in her ear when he hugged her. 

“I just saw them a couple of weeks ago,” she told James when she mentioned it to him as she walked him to the door.

He hummed thoughtfully.  “Yeah...but that was mostly just to pick the little man up and drop him off, wasn’t it?”

“Suppose,” she admitted with a frown.  It didn't really occurred to her until then that she didn’t actually spend a lot of social time with Jack anymore, apart from maybe Ian's birthday and Boxing Day.  They talked, obviously, but it was mostly when he was checking on her or she was forced to ask him for help with Ian.  Probably why she didn’t know Ianto better either, even after all these years.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.  “Just...maybe keep in mind that he’s your friend too...not just John’s.”  She nodded a little, and he dropped his hand.  “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah, I did,” she said with smile.  “Thanks for suggesting all that.”

“Anytime,” he assured her.  “I like seeing you having fun.”

“Cause I’m less likely to yell at you?” she asked, her teeth poking out from her grin.

“There is that, yeah,” he said, tugging on his ear as he nodded.  “And...happy Rose is the prettiest Rose.”  Her breath caught a little as she tried to find a response, something made extremely difficult by the way he watched her with a small smile before stepping closer and kissing her cheek lightly.  “Good night, Rose.”

She stared at the door for a long moment after he let himself out, trying not to think about the weird flips her stomach had done.

oOoOo

Time started going by faster than Rose could even try to keep track of after that.  James started calling her after Ian went to bed if he didn't stay for dinner, and they'd watch something on telly together and stay up far too late.  It didn't take the nightmares away, though, and after a particularly bad one, James shocked her by driving over without giving a hint of it on the phone.  He sat on the sofa and held her in his arms for almost half an hour before he quietly started asking about good memories of John, slowly replacing the macabre vision of his death with his grinning face and tender eyes in her mind.  He ended up sleeping on the sofa after he got her back to bed, promising he wasn't going anywhere.  Ian didn't think twice about it in the morning; he was too excited about the prospect of helping James make banana pancakes, and she smiled softly when James winked at her before starting breakfast.

One weekend found them in a furious laser tag battle with Jack and Ianto.  Ian was supposed to be on James and Rose's team, but turned out to be a little double agent.  The ensuing chaos resulted in a Mexican standoff and all five of them taking each other out simultaneously.  During pizza afterwards, Rose pulled Ian onto her lap and tickled him mercilessly in revenge.  She looked up at the flash to see James holding up his phone for a picture.  He shrugged in response to her quizzical expression, claiming it was for posterity.  It only served to confuse her more, but she let it go.

Ian was clearly having the best summer of his short life, but as much as Rose loved seeing him so happy, she couldn't relax.  She got more anxious as the days sped by into weeks, waiting for the other shoe to drop as it inevitably would.  When she noticed a change in James after his birthday, she steeled herself for the end she was sure was coming.

It wasn't anything too obvious.  It was in the extra second it took for his smile to appear, the increasingly distracted and distant conversations, the thousand yard stare that seemed to arrive more frequently and last longer every time she saw it.  It was maybe a week between when she first noticed it, and when she realized what it meant.

James was leaving.  And there was nothing she could do about it.

oOoOo

"Are you alright?" she finally asked one night.  Ian was in bed, and James stayed for a film with Rose, who'd watched him stare moodily at the screen for twenty minutes before she snapped.

"What?" he asked, turning to her in surprise.  "Fine.  Why?"

"I dunno," she said with a shrug.  "You just seem sort of... Twitchy."

His mouth turned up in a smirk.  "Twitchy?"

"Restless, I guess."

The smirk dropped from his face, and he cleared his throat as he looked back toward the screen.  “Figured that out, huh?”

“Bit hard to miss,” she said, and he glanced at her again at her poor attempt at a laugh.

“Yeah...I think I need to get out of London for a while,” he admitted slowly, and she looked down as her blood ran cold.

Of course he was leaving.  She knew that, she’d prepared for it.  Really, this moment had always been coming.  He was never supposed to stay this long.  But oh god, what was she going to tell Ian?  It was going to break his little heart.  Shit, she knew she shouldn’t have let them get this close, this was all her fault, she should have known better, she had known better, but she’d mucked it up somewhere along the way, just like everything else--

“Rose?”

“Hmm?”  Her eyes flew back up to his to see him frowning at her.  She took a breath, telling herself that she’d get through this, just like always.  “Sorry, what?”

“I...asked if you and Ian would come with me,” he said hesitantly, and she blinked, her brain completely locking up.  “You’ve got that long weekend coming up next week, haven’t you?  Boss making up her own bank holiday or something?”

“Yeah,” she said, grasping at something she knew for certain as reality tilted around her.  “Uh...yeah, she’s...taking Luke camping.  Doesn’t want to wait til August.”

“Good on her,” James replied with a grin.  “Perks of owning your own business.”  The smile faded as she continued to stare at him, and he cleared his throat.  “Anyway, I thought maybe we could go to the coast, get a hotel.  When you’re six it doesn’t really matter how far you go after all, just that a hotel is involved.  Actually, has Ian ever stayed in a hotel?  Not that it matters, but that might just add a little more excitement for him.  But we could go to the beach, you could get some sun--working in an office like you do is terrible for your vitamin D intake, it’s practically an epidemic anymore--oh, but...England.  Never know how much sun there’ll be.  Nevermind, I’ll make sure the hotel has a pool just in case.  Oh, and room service!  We could leave Friday afternoon, come back Monday--obviously separate rooms, clearly, although an adjoining terrace might be nice for breakfast--you’re still staring at me.”  He coughed awkwardly when she shook her head slightly, trying make sense of his ramble as he ruffled his hair distractedly.  “Or not, obviously.  You don’t have to.”

Rose stared at him, trying to will her brain into coming up with a response to his ramble.  She couldn’t say yes, obviously.  She’d just been sorting out in her head what she’d do when he left; agreeing to a weekend away, making all sorts of memories, that was just begging for painful disappointment later.

Besides, they’d been taking up too much of his time lately as it was.  He had more than earned a weekend to himself.  That’s what he’d always enjoyed, after all, travelling on his own.  He’d be able to do more without them bogging him down.  Really, the offer was kind, but confusing...he probably only asked to be nice anyway.  If he went alone, he’d probably remember why he liked it so much, and she’d just end up getting a call that he wasn’t coming back.  It would probably be easier that way.

“Yeah, I...can’t,” she said finally.  Something flitted across his features, but his expression shuttered completely before she could put her finger on it.  He nodded and looked away, and she rushed to fill in some sort of explanation.  “There’s a few things I wanted to get a jump on before we get swamped again, and I don’t even have a swimming costume for Ian.  And anyway, you deserve a weekend off too, without anyone hovering around.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw.  “So this isn’t because you’re afraid of me getting any closer, then?”

“I--no,” she said, her brain scrambling for something to say that was anything but that.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, of course,” she insisted, shifting uncomfortably when he turned his head to give her a penetrating look.  “But, I mean, come on...dinner is one thing, but a weekend away?  Not exactly a normal arrangement is it?”

“Suppose not,” he admitted, then shook his head and looked away again.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, without really knowing what she was apologizing for at this point.  It made so much more sense for him to go alone, so why did she feel like she’d just kicked a puppy?

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and sounded more normal when he spoke again, if still a bit distant.  “It’s fine, Rose.  Completely...fine.  I get it.”  He ran a hand over his face as he glanced around.  “I think I’m going to head home, though.”

“Okay,” she replied as he stood.

She got to her feet and followed him to the door, and he paused to turn to her when she called his name.  She wasn’t sure what else to say, though.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated uselessly with a shrug.

He sighed and stepped closer, cupping her cheek with one hand.  “It’s fine.  Really.  It was just...a thought.  A bad one, as it turns out, but still...fine.”  He studied her a moment, leaned in to kiss her forehead gently.  “Good night, Rose.”

oOoOo

She had a nightmare that night.  It was the same as always, with the crunch of glass and steel and screaming and blood.  She still jerked awake gasping for breath.  But instead of being filled with fear and panic, she was suddenly furious.  When she had her breath back, she got out of bed and tugged on her robe irritably before snatching up her phone.

“Hello?”

“I know you’re probably still upset with me,” she said when James answered.  “But I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Why would I be--nevermind.  What’s wrong?”

“You know how you said before that I had every right to be angry?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I am,” she snapped.  “I’m really just...it’s just not fair, you know?  It’s not fair that he’s gone, and I’m alone, and I have to deal with all the...mess that comes with that, but if he had to leave, then he could at least have the bloody decency to actually leave, and not keep...haunting me like this.”

“The dreams?” he asked.  Before she could answer, she heard his car start in the background.

“You don’t have to come over,” she said quickly.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“Stop it,” he cut in.  “Just stop.  I know I don’t, I know you can handle anything, you’ve made that abundantly clear, but it’s not going to stop me from wanting to be there when it’s not so easy.  So whatever you’re brain is telling you, that you shouldn’t have called me, shouldn’t have bothered me, shouldn’t have made me feel like I had to come over, just tell it to shut the hell up, please, just this once.  You should have, you haven’t, and you didn’t.  Now, what were you saying about being haunted?”

“It’s just that I still see him all the time,” she said, giving up.  “Still see that moment, that one moment where everything fell apart.  And it’s not fair!”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed.

“You know, him dying, it left this...hole,” she said.  “And I have to deal with it, every day.  I have to deal with him not being here, and being alone, and raising Ian.  I have to do it in this stupid flat that we were only supposed to be in until we had the money for--”

“For?”

“For a dream house,” she admitted, a little embarrassed.  “We were supposed to have a big house, with room to grow.  You know, the sort we both wanted growing up, with a family for Ian that we’d never had.  And all that’s gone, but I’m still stuck here, reminded all the time of what I lost.  But even though it’s gone, I still have to have these stupid dreams that destroy me over and over and--”  She stopped, swallowing hard when angry tears sprang to her eyes.  “How come I’m the one who’s got to suffer cause he left?”

“Because you did have all those plans,” he said.  “Because you did love him, still do, and because he loved you, so his dying left a pretty deep wound, and with you--”

“What?”

He sighed.  “I’m here.  Wanna let me in?”

She stepped out of her bedroom and walked to the door, checking the peephole before hanging up and opening the door for him.

“How fast did you drive?”

“Speed limits are more like guidelines when you know what you’re doing,” he said with a shrug as he closed the door behind him.

Rose snorted.  “What am I saying, you’ve probably gone racing on the autobahn.”  He smirked, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was really glad he decided to come over.  She nodded toward the kitchen, and started making tea when he followed her there.

“What were you saying?” she asked, leaning against the counter as she waited for the water to heat up.  “On the phone...about wounds?”

James stood next to her, burying his hands in his pockets.  “You suffered a thousand injuries before you ever met him.  You’ve been bleeding most of your life.  But you still believed in him, and he let you down, and it was just one deep cut too many.  On top of the...just...immeasurably traumatic way he died, it’s no wonder you’re still having dreams about it.”

“He promised,” she whispered, feeling guilty just saying it, and feeling more guilty about the fact that she wanted to scream it.  “He promised I wouldn’t be alone again.  And I know it’s not his fault, but still.”

“I know,” he said.  “And I know that if he’d had a choice, he’d still be here with you.  But that doesn’t change what happened, and it doesn’t bring him back.  And it’s still not fair.  It never will be.”

“I just wish he’d leave me alone,” she said again, her voice breaking.

“No, you don’t,” James said, shaking his head a little when she looked up at him.  “Not really.  You just need to be able to remember him without being haunted by him.”

“Oh is that all?” she snorted.  “So how do I do that?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” he warned her, shrugging when she raised her eyebrows.  “Time.  Just...time.  Heals all wounds, wounds all heels.”

“Your granddad say that?” she asked with a small smile.

“Yup,” he replied.

She chuckled a little, then took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair.  “It’s been five and a half years.”

“Mmm...no,” he disagreed, and she looked up at him curiously.  “You spent most of that time being ‘fine’.  That’s not the same as healing.”

“It was easier being fine,” she said, staring into the middle distance.

He hummed thoughtfully.  “But was it better?”

“I dunno,” she admitted, looking up at him for a moment before dropping her head to his shoulder.  She felt his lips brush the top of her head as his arm wrapped around her, lending her strength she wasn’t sure she had anymore.

oOoOo

James stayed again that night, figuring by three that it would be easier just to crash on her sofa than to to drive back to Chiswick, only to return in a few hours.  Rose woke up to the smell of french toast and bacon, and it went far in mitigating the strung out feeling she had, like a hangover but without the fun of getting hammered first.  James handed her a coffee with a wink as Ian greeted her cheerfully when she walked into the dining room.  She dropped a kiss on her son’s head as he went back to his breakfast, then followed James into the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast,” she commented as she sipped at her coffee.

“I know.”

He really shouldn’t be doing any of this.  But Rose was starting to realize that James Noble didn’t put a whole lot of stock in what he “should” be doing.  She studied him as he put more eggy pieces of bread on the griddle she didn’t think she’d ever used on her own, wondering if maybe she couldn’t take a page from his book just once.

“Is that offer still good?” she asked.

“Which one?” he asked without turning around.

“The weekend at the coast.  You might be right, could be good to get away for a few days.”

He turned slowly then, his expression hesitantly hopeful.  “Yeah.  Yeah, absolutely.  But really, Rose, I wasn’t upset with you.  You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, I know,” she said quickly.  She’d realized that last night when he’d come over without a second thought.  But…  “You really want us to come?” she asked, needing to know he was sure about it before she could be.

“I’d love it,” he said, a smile spreading across his lips.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Really?”  She laughed as his smile turned into a full blown grin.  “Oh, Rose, that’s--that’s brilliant.  Great.  Molto bene.  I’ll look into reservations--have you got any preferences?”

“Um, no...not really,” she replied with a shrug.

“Fine, that’s fine, I’ll take care of it,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Just as friends, mind,” she added quickly.  “None of this...hidden date stuff.”

“I promise,” he said quickly, then tilted his head.  “So does that mean you’re actually admitting we’re friends?  I’m not just your son’s tutor?”

“Don’t push it,” she warned, fighting a smile.

“Course not,” he said, still grinning, and she rolled her eyes.  “Wouldn’t dream of it.  Since we’re friends and all.”

“You’re an idiot,” she laughed, shaking her head.  “And your french toast is burning,” she added, nodding at the stove.  He spun around, flipping the bread with practiced ease, and she wondered if he’d actually get any teaching done today, what with a new shiny idea to obsess over.  At least he’d asked first this time.

“You won’t regret this, Rose,” he promised as he handed her a plate piled high with french toast and bacon.  “I’ll make sure it’s the weekend of a lifetime.”

“Careful, I might hold you to that,” she teased, giving him a tongue-in-teeth grin.

“Please do,” he said, and her breath hitched a little as his eyes softened at the corners.  She looked away after a moment, ignoring the heat the look at brought to her cheeks, and hurried into the dining room to tell Ian about their trip.  She just hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake.


	20. Fun in the Sun

"So, let me see if I've got this right," Donna said as James checked his bags to make sure he had everything for the weekend.  "You're going away for the weekend with Rose and Ian."

"Yes, Donna," he answered exasperatedly, having already told her this at least three times in the past week.

"The whole weekend," she went on, ignoring his tone.  "And then you're coming back to continue tutoring Ian, which has basically become code for spending as much time with Rose as possible."

"Yes.  I mean, no," he said quickly, his head snapping up when her words caught up to him.  "I told you, it's not like that."

"Right," Donna replied, clearly having none if it.  "You've only been spending at least three nights out of seven with her, _after_ Ian is in bed, and burdening the rest of us with stories about them when you're here.  And now you're taking her away for the weekend, without even _trying_ to come up with an excuse about it being a learning experience for Ian.  But it's alright, because it's not 'like that', cause you haven't got any feelings for her anymore."

"Glad you've sorted that out for yourself," he said distractedly, picking up his bags and hurrying out of his bedroom.

"Have you got your phone charger?" his sister asked, following him into the hall and down the stairs.

"Yes."

"And your razor?"

"Yes."

"And your trunks?"

"Yes."

"And Rose's most attractive feature?"

"Her smile."

"Right," she answered with a triumphant grin when he whipped around to her at the bottom if the steps.  "Glad that's all sorted.  Have a good time, Spaceman."

James only answered with an irritable growl as he left the house, dropping his bags in the boot of the car before driving over to Rose's flat.

While he did love spending time with Rose, they were just friends anymore.  He might still harbor a bit of a crush on her, because who wouldn't, but he'd let go of any romantic intentions.  She wasn't ready for anything like that, and hadn't shown any evidence that she had any feelings for him even if she were.  For god's sake, it had taken her six months to admit they were even friends.  But it was fine, because he'd rather be friends with her and help her than let her close herself off and lose her and Ian completely.  All of which he'd explained to his sister and grandfather numerous times in the past few weeks, but it only seemed to convince them further that he was in the throws of Shakespearean levels of unrequited love.

But really, who wouldn't be bowled over by her grin?

Ian was already bouncing off the walls with excitement when James arrived at the flat, and Rose wished him luck before heading to the office for a couple of hours to help Sarah Jane tie up a few things before the long weekend.  He managed to steer the conversation toward something resembling an education by talking about aquatic life and things Ian might find in tide pools.  This was not helped by the fact that Ian kept peppering him with questions like “Are you _sure_ the hotel won’t get drowned in high tide?” and “Does room service make cheesy noodles like Mummy does?”

_You can’t blame him for having his priorities straight_ , Rose replied to his text about this.  _Just don’t tell him the cheesy noodles are boxed._

He was relieved when Rose finally came home and he could give up all pretense of lecture.  Not that Ian would have even let him try to continue.

“Mummy!” he shouted as soon as Rose opened the door, jumping up from his chair and bounding over to her.  “James promises that he checked with the hotel and they won’t get drowned like Atlantis in high tide, but I guess they probably planned for that, so as long as there’s not a tsunami, we should be fine.”  She looked up at James at the mention of tsunamis, but he just shrugged and shook his head in resignation.  She fought a smile, eyes dancing as she looked back down at her son.  “An’ James says we might see star fish and sea amenanies...anenanamie…”

“Anemones?” she guessed.

“Yeah!” he agreed happily.  “Can we go soon, Mummy?”

“Yes, darling,” she laughed.  “We can definitely go soon, or you might explode.  James, I’m just going to change into something more comfortable.”

“Ms Smith,” he said, arching an eyebrow.  “Are you sure that’s entirely appropriate?”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, rolling her eyes as Ian looked between them in confusion.  “Just...wait there, yeah?  Be back in a tick.”

He smirked as she turned toward the bedroom, and started putting away his teaching supplies gratefully.  Truth be told, he was having a little trouble focusing as well--understandable, given that he had three and a half days of uninterrupted time with Rose and Ian to look forward to.  He looked up when he heard her door open, but any smart remark he might have made died in his throat when he took in the white and yellow sundress she'd changed into.  It was perfectly modest, but the way it flowed over her curves when she moved definitely felt more than a little sinful to James.

Okay, make that _definitely_ still harboring a crush.

"What is it?" she asked, looking down at herself critically when she caught him staring.  "Have a got something on me?"

"No," he answered quickly, dragging his eyes back up to her face with considerable effort.  "No, you look...you look great."  He tugged at one ear, hoping it wasn't as red as it felt.  "You...all set then?"

"Yeah," she said, tongue creeping out between her teeth as she gave him a half-confused, half-flattered smile before turning to Ian.  "You want to get your knapsack, Scrunchkin?"

Ian darted into his room, only to return a moment later with his knapsack on his back and Zippo in his arms.  "Zippo can come too, right?"

"Absolutely," James said, picking their bags up and nodding at the door for Ian to precede him.  "I would never bring us to a place that discriminated against small dragons."

"You've got a plan for everything, haven't you?" Rose asked as she followed them out the door, and he looked back at her with a wink and click of his tongue.

The drive was a dream in a way it only could be on a hot Friday afternoon at the beginning of a made up Bank Holiday.  While everyone else was still at work, Bessie cruised down the highways with her windows down and passengers chatting happily.  James snuck a glance at Rose ever so often, making sure she was really okay with this, that the panic centers of her brain weren't screeching at her in the silence of her head, but he was relieved to see nothing amiss.  In fact, she seemed to give in to the holiday spirit more fully the further they got from the flat; by the time they reached the hotel two hours later, she was sparkling.

He began to worry that _he_ was the one that had made the grave error in judgment.

He pushed the thought away without dwelling on it, given that it was probably just a knee jerk reaction to the shock of such a different Rose.  He'd seen it before, if rarely, but it was like he'd told her... Happy Rose was the prettiest Rose.

"Can we go to the beach right away?" Ian asked, practically vibrating at his side as he checked in and collected their keys.  "Will there be waves?"

"I expect so," James replied mildly, leading them to the lift.  “Tide should be coming in, great time for waves.”

“Let’s just get settled in for a mo, shall we?” Rose suggested with a meaningful look at James.

“But _Mummy_ \--”

“Hey, she didn’t say we couldn’t,” James said with a shrug.  “But we have to put our bags down and things before we do anything anyway.  Relax, little man.  The beach isn’t going anywhere.”  Ian let out a dejected sigh, slumping his shoulders, and James fought back a smile.  “It’s a tough lot, being six.”

“It really is,” the little boy responded with feeling, and James did let out a snort of laughter then, moving the bags to one hand in order to put the other around his shoulders reassuringly.

His distress was momentarily forgotten when they made it to his and Rose’s room and he saw the two full size beds.  He immediately whooped and dropped his knapsack to take a running leap onto one of them.

“We could’ve shared a bed,” Rose commented, looking around the room as she dropped her bag, the only one James had allowed her to carry, and only for want of more hands.

“Yeah, I know,” James said, setting the other bags down.  He stepped closer to her, putting a hand on the back of her neck and turning her toward the beds.  “But look at him.”  Ian sprawled out on the bed, Zippo at his side, and let out a giggle.  “It’s all part of the experience, Rose.”

Rose smiled softly, then shook her head.  “I dunno why I even bother.  The two of you are always gonna get your way anyway.”

“Yeah, you might want to just consider surrendering early,” he replied, pulling a face and shrugging as he lowered his hand.

She snorted, rolling her eyes, then sobered and turned fully to him again.  “But listen, he only just had lessons last summer.  He’s not exactly what you’d call a strong swimmer--”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her.

“No, but with the waves--”

“Rose,” he said, putting his hands on her arms and slouching down to look in her eyes, “he’ll never be in the water alone.  And if they waves are that strong, I’ll keep a hold on him, I promise.  It’s going to be fine.  What’s more, it’s going to be _fun_.  So relax.  This is your vacation too.”  She watched him for a moment, then made a show of taking a deep, calming breath.  “There you go.”

They smiled at each other, and his thumbs moved gently over her bare skin in a reassuring caress.  Mostly reassuring anyway.  Probably 70/30 reassuring versus just caress.  65/35, tops.

“Can we go to the beach _now,_ Mummy?”

James took a hurried step back, dropping his hands from Rose’s arms and swallowing hard.  Rose eyed him for another moment before turning to Ian, sitting up on the bed and watching them.

“Yeah, alright, c’mon,” she said, grabbing at one of the bags.  “Let’s find your suit.”

“I’ll just...go change,” James put in, grabbing at his bag with only slight desperation.

Definitely a miscalculation somewhere.

oOoOo

“But Mummy it makes me all slimey and putrid smelling.”

“Sunblock is _not_ putrid,” Rose argued, squeezing a dollop out on her hand.  “And it won’t matter if it’s slimey when you’re wet.”

“But _Mummy_ \--”

“Sunblock or we go back to the hotel,” she said firmly.

“Fiiiiine,” he acquiesced, standing in front of her with his arms held out, the very picture of suffering.

“Christ, he looks like he’s preparing to be crucified,” James murmured, setting up a beach umbrella.

“As far as he’s concerned, he is,” Rose sniffed, rolling her eyes as she started slathering sunblock on her son.  “Don’t forget yours either,” she added, nodding at the tube at her side.

“Oh, I’m fine,” James said, and Rose glanced up to see him tugging off his t-shirt and revealing...far more skin than she was accustomed to.  Her hands paused as her mouth dropped open a little, and he looked down in confusion when he saw her staring.  “What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, returning to her task and trying to ignore how much...broader he seemed without his shirt.  “Just a little...nothing.  But you should be wearing sunblock too.”

“Rose--”  He stopped when she looked up at him after a pointed glance at Ian, then sighed.  “Fiiiiine,” he muttered, and she rolled her eyes at how much he sounded like Ian as he snatched up the tube and dropped down next to her.

“Am I done yet, Mummy?” Ian whined, wriggling as she spread cream over the last bit of exposed skin on his shoulders.

“Yeah, fine, go,” she sighed, and he immediately started running for the surf.  “No further than your ankles ‘til one of us gets there!”

“Okay, Mummy!”

She watched him for a moment, then reached to untie the knot of the sarong around her waist, intent on covering herself with cream as well.  As she let it fall to her sides, a movement in her peripheral vision had her snapping her head up to see the tube of sunblock suddenly airborne.  She turned a questioning look to James, staring down at his hands.

“Slippery hands,” he choked out, cheeks flushed and body stiff with embarrassment.  “Sorry.  Ehm.  Did you want some help with your back?”

“Oh...um...sure, yeah,” she said, picking up the tube and squeezing some out on her hand as he positioned himself behind her, then handed it back to him.

She started rubbing the cream on her arms, then paused when she felt his fingers brush over her neck, gathering her hair and dropping it over one of her shoulders.  When she felt his hands on her back, she shivered involuntarily.

“Sorry!  Too cold?”

“No...it’s fine,” she replied, trying to steady her breathing.  _Get it together_ , she commanded herself, forcing herself to focus back on her arms and not the way his palms felt as they massaged suncream into her back.

Just friends.  Absolutely.  Which is why she was totally fine, and absolutely was not thoroughly distracted by the sensation of his slender fingers dipping into the edge of her suit and under her straps.  There was zero sexual element, just UV protection.

“There you are,” he said as he finished, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.  “Alright?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, glancing back at him briefly before looking forward toward the water again.  Ian was up to his calves--close enough--and kicking at the waves rippling over his legs.  She shifted on the towel, raising herself up to her knees.  “Come on, I’ll do yours.  Better be quick before Ian has a conniption.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” he said quickly, backing away from her when she glanced back at him over her shoulder.  “Really, it’s--”

“Oh my god, you’re as bad as Ian,” she groaned, reaching back and tugging at his arm.  “You might think you’re fine, Mister Noble, but those freckles tell a different story.  You’ll burn in five minutes, and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

He made another sound of protest, then gave in when she raised her eyebrows and tugged at his arm again.  “Fine.”

He crawled around her and sat down in front of her while she squeezed more sunblock onto her hands and rubbed them together to warm it up.  He sucked in a breath when her hands touched his skin, goosebumps erupting from the spot, and she winced.  She pulled her hands away to rub them together for another moment before trying again, palms gliding over his back as she spread the cream.  She was surprised again by the muscles shifting beneath his skin--for someone so skinny, he seemed deceptively toned, with firm muscles that rippled when he moved.  Really firm.  Almost--

“Blimey, are you always this tense?” she asked when she reached his shoulders.

“Yes,” he said shortly, and she raised her eyebrows before making a face at the back of his head.  Bloody grumpy men acting like they’re thirty-five going on five.

Something in front of them caught his attention as she finished up, and he tilted his head a little before turning and searching in another direction.  When he found whatever he was looking for, his expression twisted and his eyes slid shut for a moment before he shook himself.

“Gotta go,” he said quickly, reaching back to brush her thigh with a feather light touch, too quick for her to react to, before scrambling to his feet and heading for the water.

“What--”

She stopped when she realized what he’d seen.  Ian was still standing in the water, but was looking back at the beach a little away from where Rose was sitting, picking at his nails and wearing a strange expression.  When she turned, she saw a little boy about his age, maybe a year or two older, building a sand castle with a man who could only be his dad.

“Oh, Ian,” she murmured, waves of guilt and pain washing over her as she turned back to her son, already getting to her feet.

James got to him before she could take a step, his long legs having eaten up the distance quickly, and he caught the little boy around the waist with a roar, flipping him upside down before tossing him over his shoulder and wading purposefully into the waves.  Ian’s screams and giggles carried back where Rose was standing, and she smiled softly, crossing her arms over herself as her stomach did a weird flip.

James set Ian down when the water was about waist high on the boy, and a wave immediately crashed over him from behind.  Rose lurched forward in concern, but, true to his word, James had kept a hand on Ian's arm, keeping him from getting knocked down into the water.  James urged him a little closer to the beach before the next wave hit, making sure the waves stopped short of the little boy's head and that he could keep his balance before letting go.  Ian searched the beach for a moment before finding Rose and waving with a grin.

"Come on, Mummy!" he shouted.  "It's your turn!"

She smiled and made her way to the water, but let out a little yelp when it washed over her feet.

"It's freezing!"

"Oh, it's not that bad," James protested, wading closer.  "You think this is bad, you should have felt it two months ago."

"No, ta," she replied firmly, grasping his arm when he reached for her.  His hand encircled her arm just above her wrist, providing firm support as she stepped closer--until a firm tug pulled her off her feet and face first into the water.

She broke the surface again quickly, and a strong arm around her waist steadied her as she sputtered and pushed hair out of her face.  She blinked water out of her eyes, then looked up at James accusingly.

"You did that on purpose!"

"I swear I didn't," he replied, his expression convincingly horrified.  "My foot slipped, I'm sorry!"  She huffed at him, and his expression changed, his eyebrows rising as a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.  "Although...it's certainly a good way to acclimate yourself to the temperature."

Rose's eyes narrowed as he stepped away from her, looking entirely too confident for his own good.  "You know, you're right."

In a flash, she was under the water again.  Before he could react, she grabbed his leg below his knee and tugged, tipping him off balance.  She resurfaced as he crashed backwards, with Ian giggling madly to the side.  James gave her a dark look when he found his feet again, bottom lip pulled down just a bit to bear his teeth as he slicked his hair back from his forehead with one hand.

"Just making sure you've been properly acclimated," she said innocently.

"Right."  He tilted his head to rid his ear off water.  "A true act of selflessness.  You, Ms. Smith, are an example to us all."

"Glad you realize that," she replied cheekily, tongue poking out a little from her grin.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the water.  Ian clung to James's back as the older man rode the waves of the incoming tide, then practiced the strokes he'd learned the summer before as the water calmed a bit.  Rose was beginning to feel a bit waterlogged when Ian suddenly announced that he was starving, and she gratefully followed him and James back to the hotel.

They had supper at the hotel restaurant after they changed.  Rose tried to tell James that she'd pay for that much, at least, but he refused, claiming that watching Ian's attempts at eating lobster on his own was worth every pound.  She was feeling pleasantly relaxed and sleepy as they watched the sunset from the shared terrace between the rooms--because James always seemed to get what he wanted--and laid her head on his shoulder, shivering a little when he slipped an arm around her waist.

"Cold?" he asked quietly.

"A bit," she lied, trying to cover her reaction.  Her mistake became quickly evident when he stepped behind her and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her against his chest.  She stiffened for an instant, but the whole holiday atmosphere--the colors of the sunset, the scent if the sea, the sound of the waves gently lapping at the beach below them--made it harder for her to resist, and she relaxed against him after a moment.  He rested his cheek on her head, one of his thumbs moving in slow circles on her arm and making her heart feel fluttery.

"Mummy," Ian said suddenly, making both adults start.  "I'm tired.  Can we go to bed now?"

"Course, sweetheart," Rose replied.  She stepped away from James, trying not to notice the way his fingers trailed over her skin as his hands lingered on her arms.  She gave him a smile as she turned, putting one arm around Ian’s shoulders as he rubbed his eyes.  “Word of advice, always take a six year old up on his offer to go to bed before you have to drag him.”

“Noted,” James said with a grin, reaching forward to tousle Ian’s hair.  “Good night, little man.  See you both in the morning.”

Rose got Ian changed into his pyjamas and tucked him into bed, marveling at how little he looked in a full sized bed to himself.  Ian hadn't been lying about being tired, though; by the time Rose got herself into bed, he was already asleep.  She turned out the lights and flipped on the telly, lowering the volume as she channel surfed and waited for her own fatigue to find her.  She looked up a few minutes later when her phone suddenly buzzed, and picked it up to find a new text message from James.

- _BBC2_

She stared at the text in confusion before flipping to the channel, then smothered a laugh with her hand when she saw a documentary on the history of computers.  She looked down when her phone buzzed again.

- _Fiver says I can find more errors than facts._

_-You’re on._

oOoOo

“Are we going swimming again soon?” Ian asked over breakfast the next morning.

“Oh, now, Ian m’boy, you didn’t think our trip would be limited to just paddling around in the waves did you?” James replied, brows furrowing even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes?” Ian ventured, glancing at Rose in confusion.

James huffed.  “Absolutely not.  We’re going on an adventure.”

“What sort of adventure?”

“Well,” he said, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table and clasp his elbows, “you remember me telling you about the tide pools?  Fancy a bit of exploring?  Might even find a sea anenenenome,” he added with a grin, and Ian giggled.

“Yeah!” the little boy agreed exuberantly.

“Excellent,” James said, then turned to Rose.  “You coming along?”

“Exploring the fascinating world of tide pools?” Rose asked, her chin resting in her hand as she looked between them.  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Brilliant,” he said, tongue swiping over his top teeth as his grin widened.

Rose trailed along behind them as they took to the beach, enjoying the sea breeze as it played with her blue sundress and floppy hat.  James and Ian wandered around the tide pools hand in hand, occasionally stopping for James to point out something particularly interesting.  At one point, James let go of Ian’s hand to reach down and lift something up, and Rose paused  to watch them, heads bent together as they looked at the shelled animal he’d procured.  She took her phone out of her beach tote, snapping a photo of them before Ian looked up and called for her to come and see.

“It’s a hermit crab, Mummy,” Ian informed her when she got closer, crouching down to look at the tiny crustacean.

“Surprised it let you pick it up,” she commented.

“This little guy is particularly friendly, I’ll grant you,” James said, shifting his hands to let the crab waddle across them.  “But the name is a misnomer--they’re actually very social creatures.  Can travel in packs of up to a hundred, scavenging for food.”

“Imagine that coming over the ridge,” she said with a shudder, and he chuckled.

“Can I hold it, James?” Ian asked. 

James looked up at him cautiously, debating.  “Very carefully,” he advised after a moment, holding out his hand and letting the crab walk onto Ian’s.  “They’re incredibly afraid of heights.”

“Really?” Rose asked, surprised.

He hummed an affirmative, his eyes trained on Ian.  “You would be too, if a fall from three feet could kill you.  But if they’re scared or stressed, they’re more likely to pinch, so you need to be careful when you handle them.”

“Can I get a hermit crab as a pet, Mummy?” Ian asked.

She gave James a panicked look, and he cut in quickly.  “Better not, little man.  Fussy little creatures, hermit crabs.  They need all sorts of things--certain humidity, temperature, two different kinds of water, and that’s just the basics.”

“Maybe when you’re older,” Rose offered as conciliation.

“Okay,” Ian said, but still sounded disappointed.

They moved on after that, managing to catch sight of a sea anemone to Ian’s unending delight and taking away some of the sting of the refused pet.  They went back to the beach after lunch, and Rose forgot about the whole thing--until James disappeared mysteriously after dinner, only to show up again an hour later with a pair of stuffed hermit crabs.

“Stuffed crabs are _far_ more congenial than live ones,” he explained, kneeling down and holding them up as Ian’s eyes got wide.  “Don’t care about temperature or humidity, and never pinch.”

Ian watched him for a moment, uncertain what to do.  “Go on,” Rose urged, pushing lightly at his shoulders, and it was all the encouragement he needed.  He darted over to James, throwing his arms around the man’s neck and murmuring a thank you before taking the crabs and climbing onto his bed to introduce them to Zippo.

“Hardy and Hannah,” James said as he stood, nodding a little.  “Good names.”

“Never takes him long,” Rose laughed.  “Thanks for that, James.”

“My pleasure,” he replied easily.

“You had to get two?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“They’re social creatures, Rose,” he reminded her sternly.  “Can’t have just one, it’d die of loneliness.”

“Right,” she said, looking back at Ian and his stuffed pets while something inside tugged at her.  “Suppose it would.”

Ian looked up then.  “James, are you going to watch a film with us?  Mummy said we could watch Muppet Treasure Island.”

“Oh, now, how could I refuse an offer like that?” he responded, burying his hands in his pockets.  “Tell you what, how about we all change into our jimjams, and I’ll hunt down some popcorn.”

“Okay!” Ian said excitedly, hopping off the bed and running over to his suitcase.

“And Rose,” he added, reaching one hand toward her to grasp her arm, “they’re just crabs.  No hidden messages.”

Her mouth dropped open a little as she stared at him, stunned.  “How’d you--”

“Slightly psychic,” he said with a modest shrug, and she snorted.  “That...or I’ve just gotten to know you fairly well.”

“So psychic, then,” she replied, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

“Yeah, definitely,” he agreed quickly, eyebrows waggling earnestly as he smiled.  “See you in a few.”

Ian insisted they all crowd on his bed when James returned in pyjamas and bearing popcorn--including Zippo, Hardy, and Hannah.  He sat between the two adults with the popcorn in his lap.  James never made a sound of protest, simply stretched his long legs out in front of him, reaching for a handful of fluffy kernels as he slipped an arm behind Rose’s shoulders.  As the film started, Rose realized that, hidden messages or not, there was something to being a social creature after all.

oOoOo

James woke up slightly disoriented the next morning, one arm completely asleep and a warm weight curled against his chest as he lay on his side.  He blinked, then glanced around, stilling when he realized his position.

They’d all been more exhausted than they’d thought the night before after a day of sun and surf, and had apparently fallen asleep before the film ended.  Ian was curled up between him and Rose, clutching Zippo in his sleep, and Rose’s fingers had, at some point, twined with James’s on the little boy’s waist.  He disentangled his hand carefully, reaching up to rub his eyes as his gaze traveled up her arm to her face, her head pillowed against his arm, explaining the numbness.  He couldn’t move her, though--at least, not right away.  She looked so relaxed and happy, actually enjoying sleep rather than being plagued with nightmares that left her sparkling eyes looking haunted and bruised.

He reached up with his free hand, brushing her hair back from her face gently.  The tips of his fingers lingered over cheek, and he swallowed hard against some emotion he would rather not dissect.  If the weekend had accomplished nothing else, it was steadily chipping away at his resolve to maintain a platonic relationship with Rose.  It was still possible, in theory, but when he saw her like this, all fight and compulsive self-reliance gone, it was so much harder tell himself that he didn’t want to wake up like this every morning.

Ian stirred between them, and James pulled his hand away quickly as the boy’s stretching roused his mother.  Rose sat up quickly, making it easier for Ian to crawl past her off the bed to the bathroom.

“Have you got any feeling left in your arm?” she asked with an apologetic look.

“Not particularly,” he replied, wincing and flexing his arm to get his blood circulating again.

“Sorry,” she muttered, taking his hand and attempting to massage some life into it.

“Worth it,” he said, shrugging a little.  She gave him a shy smile, and his own lips twitched in response.  Ian came back before they could say anything else, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

“Why’s it still so dark?” he asked, and James realized the room was still surprisingly murky.

“I dunno.”  James tugged his hand from Rose’s grasp gently, getting off the bed and heading over to the window to pull back the curtain.  “Oh...England strikes again.”

Rose ducked under his raised arm to look out the window, then groaned at the dark clouds rolling in.  Lightening struck as Ian squeezed his way between them, with thunder grumbling several seconds later.

“No beach today?” Ian asked unhappily.

James clicked his tongue.  “Afraid not.  Tell you what though, that doesn’t mean no swimming.  The hotel’s got a pool...with a hot tub,” he added, arching an eyebrow at Rose.

“Now you’re talking my language,” she said with a grin.

They decided to put off the pool until the afternoon, however, when the rain started, deciding that it was a day to be lazy.  James ordered breakfast and lunch through room service, and they got another two films in before any of them really had any desire to venture out of Rose and Ian’s room.  When they did make it down to the pool, James proved once again the be the master of contingency plans, digging out the water toys he’d brought just in case.

“Are you _ever_ at a loss?” Rose asked when he came out of his room carrying various rings and foam things.

“Around you?  Often,” he said without thinking, then snapped his eyes up to hers.  “But, I mean, pool toys isn’t...all that far of a reach.  I mentioned weather possibilities back when I first brought up the trip, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” she said, an odd look on her face.  She shook herself a little when Ian followed her out of the room, and they trooped down to the pool together.

The two adults splashed around with Ian for a while, who started tossing rings into the deep end for James and Rose to retrieve and seemingly arbitrarily declaring a winner every now and then.  It didn’t stop Rose from sticking her tongue out at James when she was declared the winner, or rolling her eyes when he did a backflip into the water in celebration when he took the title.  They drifted a few feet away after a while to soak in the hot tub, with stern instructions for Ian to stay in the shallow water and in sight.  Rose claimed that James needed it at least as much as she did, given how tense he apparently always was, and he didn’t have an argument that wouldn’t be either rude or entirely too revealing.  Not that he really wanted to argue anyway, especially not after the moan she let out as she sank into the warm water.

The rain stopped late in the afternoon, and the clouds broke up enough in the evening to watch the sunset from the terrace again.  The rain had cooled the air, leaving Rose shivering even more than the first night, and James ducked into his room for a cardigan to drape over her shoulders.  She rolled her eyes, muttering something about overplanning, but slipped her arms into the sleeves anyway.  She leaned her head against his shoulder as the sun sank over the horizon and stars twinkled to life overhead, and he slipped an arm around her waist as he started pointing out constellations for Ian, far easier to see outside the bustling London.

Rose hustled Ian inside after a while, much to the boy’s dismay, but they had both seen him yawning more frequently.  He hugged James as he said good night, and Rose offered James a smile as she followed her son into their room.  James watched their closed door for a moment before turning back to the beach, leaning his arms on the terrace railing and clasping his hands together loosely as he watched the waves.  He wasn’t tired yet, given that he’d actually slept enough hours to resemble a normal person the night before...and he wasn’t really looking forward to the emptiness of his room after spending so much time with Rose and Ian.

Before he could contemplate _that_ any further, the door to their room opened again behind him, and Rose stepped out.  She offered him a small smile before turning and closing the door most of the way, so they’d still hear anything in the room.  When she turned again, she held up a small bottle of champagne and two glasses shyly, and he grinned at her as she stepped closer.

“I figure we deserve a little adult time on the last night,” she said, handing him the bottle to open.

“Right you are, Ms Smith.”  He popped the cork and poured it into the flutes she held up, then set it aside and took one from her.  “Have a toast in mind?”

She took a deep breath, then let it out with a laugh.  “No idea.  Do we have to have one?”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, sipping at his glass pointedly.  “We can just enjoy champagne in evening breeze.”

“There ya go,” she said, taking a drink from her own glass.  She leaned on the railing, and he returned to his former position beside her.  “I wanna thank you for this.  It’s been...a lot of fun.”  She flashed a smile at him before turning back to the waves.  “I don’t think I’ve been on any sort of vacation since my honeymoon.  We went to Venice.  Rode in a gondola, _didn’t_ get sick.”

James dropped his head to his chest with a snort, then raised it again to nod a little, accepting the mild ribbing.  “Yeah, well.  You’ve got me there.”

“Yes, I have,” she agreed with a laugh.  She took another drink from her glass.  “So...um, how do you know so much about hermit crabs?”

“I looked it up,” he said with a shrug.  “We were coming out here, so I figured I’d gather some intel for Ian before we left.”

“You just...looked it up,” she said, mirroring his shrug, and he arched an eyebrow at her.  “Oh my god...you’re one of those people that can go online for the price of milk and end up reading about the...mating habits of gophers six hours later.”

“I’m not _entirely_ sure how I’d get from the price of milk to gopher romance,” he said slowly, “or why I’d be looking up the price of milk in the first place, but yeah, that sounds about right.”

She laughed again at his grin, she shook her head with a sigh.  “Suppose I couldn’t ask for a better tutor for Ian, though.”

“Right,” he said after a beat, taking another drink as he returned his gaze to the water and trying not to let the tutor distinction get to him--and failing.

He berated himself silently, not yet ready to concede Donna’s point about having feelings for Rose.  He’d gotten over that, he’d forced himself to, because it was never gonna happen.  It was just the...holiday atmosphere, the insanely domestic feel of the three of them together.  The woman who’d told him yesterday that he had a beautiful family when he’d picked up ice cream cones for the three of them hadn’t helped.  But they were friends, that’s all.  It was just that mentioning him as the tutor seemed like a backslide from that is all.

Right.  That was all.

“You alright?” she asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts with a nudge of her shoulder against his arm.

“Hmm?”  He made a grab at his wayward musings, pulling them back into some sort of order.  “Oh, yeah, fine.  Just...tired.  And have to drive tomorrow, since someone refuses to learn.”

“All I said was that I don’t want to be responsible for leaving bits of poor Bessie’s transmission all over the motorway,” she protested, and he hummed doubtfully at her.  She rolled her eyes and drained her glass.  “Well, in that case, I should let you get to bed.  Don’t want a grumpy driver in the morning.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” he said, following suit as she straightened.  “Very rich, you calling _me_ grumpy in the morning.”

Her laughter rang out again, a sound like tinkling bells that eased the tightness that had started in his chest.  “Yeah, alright.”  She paused, biting her lip for a moment.  “Thanks again, James.  I had a...really great time.”

“Me too,” he said with a small smile.

She seemed to hesitate again, then leaned up, her hands on his waist to steady herself as she kissed his cheek, soft and lingering.  He froze, completely at a loss for how to react as she pulled away from his cheek but stayed close, tantalizingly close, both their heads bowed and centimeters apart.

_A finger under her chin would lift her face to his, and the distance he’d have to close to press his lips to hers would be infinitesimally small.  His hand would move to her hair, fingers threading through the soft strands with ease, and his free arm would slip around her waist to pull her closer as he angled her head to deepen the kiss.  Her tongue would slide over his as she opened her mouth, her small hands skimming up his chest before looping her arms around his neck--_

“Good night, James,” she murmured, and he swallowed hard as she stepped away, not dropping her hands until the last moment.

“Good night, Rose,” he answered, his voice still a little thick as she turned away.

He drained his glass when the door closed behind, then let out a long breath.

He really hated when Donna was right.


	21. A Little Help

"Are you _sure_ you can't stay for dinner tonight, James?" Ian asked in a pleading tone, looking up from his drawing, and James winced.

"Sorry, little man," he replied with a shake off his head.  "Tied up tonight.  Besides, it's Tuesday...I never stay for dinner on Tuesdays."

"Well, you didn't used to stay Thursdays, either," Ian said practically, "or take us to the cinema on Fridays."

"He's got you there," Rose laughed as she set a cup of tea down in front of James.  He narrowed his eyes at her as she took the seat on the other side of her son, her eyes dancing at him over her cup as she took a drink.

"You know what I love most about you, Rose?  How helpful you are in situations like this."  She merely grinned at him, tongue running over her top teeth, and he shook his head.  "Anyway, I told you, I haven't got my car today.  I'm slave to when Donna wants to pick me up."

Ian let out a huff of irritation that made James raise an eyebrow, and returned to his drawing.

"I still can't believe you let someone borrow Bessie," Rose commented, and James shifted his gaze back to her.

"Not someone," he corrected.  "My sister.  Who, I should add, is not above giving Indian burns."

Rose giggled.  "So does that mean I’m finally going to meet the legendary Donna Noble?"

James choked on his tea as various scenarios where his sister met Rose played out in his head at lightning speed.  "God, no."  Her face fell for an instant before shuttering, and he scrambled for a better response.  "I mean, unless...did--did you want to?"

"Not if you don't want me to," she replied carefully, making James flinch.  It's like they were conspiring to make him feel guilty today.

"It's not that," he said quickly.  "Not at all.  It's just that Donna is very...Donna.  Not that that's a _bad_ thing... Uh..."

Rose's eyebrows shot up, and he shifted uncomfortably, casting around for something else to say and coming up empty.  His mouth opened and closed a few times soundlessly, and he wondered how the hell she managed to do this to him _all the time._

A knock came at the door before James had found any words, and his head snapped around to it even as Ian clambered off his chair to answer it.

"No, wait--" James tried, standing quickly, but he was too late.

"Hello," Ian said hesitantly as Donna's eyes dropped to him.

"Hello there," she said as James made his way over with a frown.  "You must be Ian!"

"Yes, he is," James said, drawing the boy closer with a hand on his chest.  "And _you_ were supposed to text me when you got here."

"Text messaging is so impersonal," Donna replied with a dismissive wave.  "And honestly, Jamie, did you think I could pass up this opportunity?"

"Did you even need my car at all?" he asked suspiciously as she pushed her way past him.  Ian reached up with one hand to grasp James' larger one, still on his chest.

"Of course I did," she said.  "So are you going to introduce me?"

"No," he said stubbornly.

Rose sighed, stepping closer and holding out a hand.  "I don't think he really wanted us to meet any more of his family.  Anyway, I'm Rose."

"You're probably right," Donna said, ignoring James' glare as she shook Rose's hand.  "But to be fair, that probably has more to do with us than you."

"It has everything to do with you," James remarked.

"But we've heard so much about you," his sister went on, and he shook his head, running one hand down his face.  "Can't get him to stop. It's all 'Rose this' or 'Ian that'.  Never shuts up, this one, but I'm sure you already knew that."

She finished with a laugh, a sure sign that she was more nervous than she wanted to let on.

"I think it might be genetic," Rose mused, and James smirked.

"Anyway," Donna said pointedly, glancing between them before stepping closer to James.  "What I really came up here for was to invite you two to the cookout we're having at our place this weekend."

"Sorry, since when are we having a cookout?" James demanded, baffled.

"Since now," she muttered, smacking his chest above Ian's head.  "Keep up, Spaceman.  So what do you say, Rose?  Ian?"

"Will Wilf be there?" Ian asked as James watched Rose bite her lip uncertainly.

"Couldn't keep him away," Donna replied with a grin.

"Because he lives there," James pointed out.  "Right, you've said your piece, time to go.". He moved his hand to Ian's shoulder, guiding him over to Rose.  "Ian, I'll see you in morning.  Call you later?"

Rose nodded, and he gave her an apologetic look as he grabbed his bag.

"But--"

"She doesn't have to give you an answer right now," James told Donna firmly, returning to her side and grabbing her elbow to steer her toward the door.  "Come on."

Donna huffed irritably.  "Fine.  Nice to meet you Rose, Ian."

She didn't say anything else as they made their way down to the car park, and demurely handed over the keys at the car.

"They seem nice," Donna commented as he put the car in gear and pulled out.

"I hate you."

"No you don't," Donna said with certainty, and he let out an annoyed growl as he cut his eyes to her.  "Anyway, what else were we supposed to do?  You've been hiding them away for _months_."

"Can't think why," he retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It's not like I proposed for you," his sister went on calmly, and he rolled his eyes so hard it was actually painful.

"No, I suppose you're waiting for the 'family cookout' for that."

"Might as well."  She shrugged.  "Not as if you're making any progress on your own.  And you can tell me all you want that you don't have feelings for her--"

"I do."

"--but I just can't--". She stopped when his words registered.  "Sorry, what?

James sighed heavily and turned to her at a traffic stop.  "I do have feelings for her.  Quite a lot, in fact.  But in case you've forgotten, it didn't exactly turn out well the last time I tried to act on anything."

"But that was months ago," Donna reminded him, her voice gentler.  "A lot's happened since then."

James returned his eyes to the road as the traffic light turned, shaking his head.  "Doesn't matter.  I'm not going to push for anything unless she decides she wants something else."

"And how's she going to let you know she does?" Donna asked.  "Show up at the house dressed as Lloyd Dobler?"

"That would certainly be irrefutable," he replied, lips twitching.

"Fine," she said, sighing dramatically.  "I'll back off.  Mind you, I still think it's barmy that you've turned yourself into some tragic hero in your own story, but that's very you.  I'll be on the lookout in case she wants to borrow your trench coat at the cookout."

"Noted," he said, deciding to let the other remark pass.  "But about this cookout... How'd you get Mum to agree?"

"Granddad and I figured we'd just set it up," Donna replied with a shrug.  "Then casually...remind her the morning of."

"Ah, the old 'must have slipped your mind' dodge," he said knowingly.

"Told her _weeks_ back.  She really should have written it down."

"Lose her head if it wasn't screwed on."

oOoOo

Ian drove Rose mad the rest of the night about the cookout.  She put off his questions the first few times, saying she'd think about it, but finally threatened to say no if he asked once more.  He let it go then, apparently not eager to chance it, but then kept talking about how much he'd like to see Wilf again, and how nice James' sister had seemed.

She vented about all of this to James when he called after Ian went to bed.

"And you wondered why I didn't want her to meet you," he replied wearily, and Rose pictured his hand running over his face.  "I'm sorry, Rose, I really had no idea she was going to ambush you like that."

"It must be a family trait," she muttered.

"That's...possible," he admitted.  "Never really thought of it like that.  But really, you don't have to come if you don't want to."

Rose sighed, knowing it would break Ian's heart if she said no.  And even though she didn't want to admit it, she sort of wanted to go as well.

"So what do people bring to a cookout?"

"I don't--hold on, you're actually _coming_?"

"Might as well," she said.  "Given the fact that Ian's life will apparently end if he doesn't get to see Wilf again by Sunday."

"Brilliant!"

Rose smirked, but her eyes still narrowed suspiciously.  "You're awfully excited for someone who apparently didn't know about it until this afternoon."

"I'm always excited to spend time with you," he replied in a warm tone that sent a shiver down her spine.  "The setting is, more or less, just details."

She was glad they were on the phone and he couldn't see her flush.  They ended up arguing amiably about whether or not she should bring anything on Sunday (he finally agreed that a couple bottles of wine would be fine) before moving on to other things; things he wanted to do with Ian (they'd start reading the Princess Bride next week, because he'd found a cinema that, inexplicably, would be playing it next Friday) and her lamenting about the influx of corporate contacts at work (the money was good, but the creativity was mostly limited to strategic placement of clip art).

It was almost midnight when they finally said goodnight, but Rose stayed awake for a while in the darkness of her room thinking about his comment regarding spending time with her.  It wasn't the first time he'd said something like that, but ever since they got back from the coast a week ago, things like that seemed to carry an extra weight.  That night, when she'd kissed his cheek, she'd imagined him turning his head, giving her a real kiss, and not panicking afterwards, and for a breathless moment, she wondered if he had too.  But then it was gone, and before she knew it, they were back in their regular routine.  James was still...James, with all the physical contact and flirty comments, but she found herself more and more distracted by it while realizing that he wasn’t actually doing anything out of character.

She let out a frustrated noise and turned on her side, determined to forget about James and get to sleep.  Whatever weird crush she’d developed for him was clearly not an option to explore--even if it weren’t a terrible idea, he’d made it clear that whatever had prompted the kisses and not-quite-date months back was a thing of the past.

oOoOo

"I dunno why I'm even bothering," Sylvia sniffed on Sunday, fluffing a pillow.  "That boy is just going to blow through here and destroy everything anyway."

"Dunno what you're complaining about, Mum," James said distractedly, eyes on his phone as he stepped off the stairs and moved down the hall hurriedly.  "You've been harping at us for grandkids for years."

"Grandkids," she hissed to Wilf as James moved out of sight.  "Not some stranger's hellish offspring."

"Wouldn't let Jamie hear you say that," Wilf advised.  "He cares about them."

"Well, of course he does," she snapped.  "It's just like those mangy strays he used to bring home as a kid."

Wilf stared at her a moment, then shook his head, deciding it wasn't worth the argument at the moment.  "Anyway, I dunno why you're bothering with all this," he said instead.  "We're going to be outside all afternoon anyway."

"Appearances, Dad," she responded, moving on to another pillow.  "Just because no one else in this house cares if we live in filth, I do.  Go find something to do if you're not going to help."

Wilf sighed, wandering off out of the room.  Her mother, god rest her soul, always hoped Sylvia would grow out of her petty viciousness, but she'd apparently missed the message somewhere along the way.

"Don't be ridiculous," James was saying into his phone when Wilf entered the kitchen.  "It'd take you a lifetime to get to Chiswick by bus, and I can be at your place in twenty five minutes.  Fifteen if there's no traffic or police." There was a pause, and he stopped his pacing to smack his hand over his eyes on frustration.  "Now see _that_ would cost you a small fortune," he countered.  "It's a complete waste of money, and thoroughly ridiculous."

Wilf looked at Donna, sitting at the table with a magazine and a cup of coffee.  She shook her head, mouthing "Rose."  He moved to fix his own cup, glancing at James when he growled, then took the phone from his ear to close his eyes and take a deep breath. 

"Rose, you do realize we're arguing about saving you a lot of time and money," he continued after a moment as Wilf joined Donna at the table.

"Apparently the fair lady would _not_ prefer the gallant knight carry her off on his mighty steed," she explained while James continued arguing on the phone.  "And he disagrees."

"Suppose it's too late to tell him to pick his battles," Wilf sighed.

Donna snorted.  "By about thirty years, yeah."

"That is a completely legitimate compromise," James said as he joined them, spinning a chair around to straddle it.  "If you're going to insist on wasting your money to come see me on the weekend, despite the fact that you have a free alternative, then I'll call this week a debt to be repaid."  Pause.  "I'll never cash it."  Pause.  "I'd like to see you try without me noticing.  Sounds invigorating, actually.  Been awhile since anyone but Jack tried to put a hand down my...pockets."  Another pause, and James' darkened.  "Fine!"  He ripped the phone away from his ear to glare at it.  "You are a stubborn, stubborn woman."

" _She's_ stubborn," Donna snorted, nodding at James.

"You wouldn't like her half so much if she didn't drive you up the wall sometimes," Wilf remarked.

"Oh, I dunno, I'd give it a go," James said, tossing his phone on the table and rubbing his eyes before running his hands down his face.

"But then where would all the sexual tension come from?" Donna asked, fighting a smile.

"She's got a point there," Wilf said, pointing a finger at his granddaughter.  "Some of my best memories of your gran are from just after a row.  Making up is the best part."

James looked between them, mouth moving silently before shaking his head.  "There is no talking to you people," he claimed, snatching up his phone and standing.  "None.  I don't even know why I try."

An hour later, Wilf and Donna exchanged a grin as James glared balefully at the cab pulling up to the house.  Wilf jogged outside to greet them, waving with both hands as Ian climbed out of the car.  The little boy’s face lit up and Wilf bent down to hug him when he ran over.

"Glad to see your feeling better, m'boy," he said as he pulled away.

"I've got a scar," Ian told him happily.  "James and I match!"

"Never seen someone so thrilled to be disfigured," Rose laughed as she approached carrying a bag in one hand.

"That's kids for you," Wilf said with a shrug as he straightened.  "How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm good," she said, kissing his cheek.  "How are you?"

"Better for seeing a pretty face," he replied, and she laughed.

"Flatterer."

"That's one word for it," James said behind them, and Wilf noted the curious flush that spread over Rose's cheeks before turning to see James leaning casually against the door jam, ankles crossed.  "Feel better?"

"I do," she said primly.

"Good," he replied, straightening.  "Cause I'm still giving you a ride home.  Come on, I'll introduce you."

Wilf caught her eye roll as she moved past him, herding Ian with a hand in the back if his head.

"Don't suppose it's occurred to you that you're being a _tad_ unreasonable," she sighed as he took the bag from her and slid an arm around her shoulders.

"Nope," he said easily, dropping a kiss on her hair.

"Course not."

“Can I help cook, James?” Ian asked as they all trooped inside.

“Not sure if I’ve got anything for you to do today,” James hedged carefully.  “Besides, child labor laws say I can’t put you to work on Sundays.”

Ian frowned up at him, brows knitting in concentration.  “I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Prove it,” James challenged.

“Nah, it’s true,” Wilf chimed in.  “They’ve got the same rule for old men, though, so you can keep me company.

Ian eyed the three adults suspiciously for a moment, then shook his head and took Wilf’s hand.  “That’s alright then.”

James shot Wilf a grateful look--neither of them really wanted to think about Sylvia’s possible reaction to Ian wanting to help.  Thankfully, she at least managed to paste on a smile during introductions, and Donna cut in quickly with Lee to drag Rose and Ian into the garden.

James started the grill shortly after, and Wilf let Ian chatter away as he watched James and Rose surreptitiously.  She looked better than she had the last time Wilf had seen her, when they’d been picking Ian up from the hospital.  She had a bit of color in her face again, and smiled a little easier, especially when she was talking to James.

“Rose, that one’s done,” James said a while later, pointing his spatula at a steak on a separate plate.

“Great, thanks,” she replied, grabbing a knife and fork from the table before joining him and cutting up the steak for Ian.  She popped a piece in her mouth, eyes widening as she groaned.

“Good?” James asked with a smile.

“Perfect,” she moaned, picking up another piece and holding it out for him.  He shook his head, then nodded at his full hands, and she made an impatient noise as she lifted her arm higher for him to take it from her fingers with his teeth.

“Too hot?” she asked with a frown when he sucked in a sharp breath.

“No,” he said quickly.  “Never tasted better.”

“Oh, lord,” Donna muttered under her breath, and even Wilf had to shake his head at the hopelessness of his grandson.

Ian started getting antsy after lunch, so James and Lee dug a football out of the shed while Wilf helped Sylvia clean up, telling Rose to relax and enjoy herself with Donna.  Wilf took up drying dishes, watching out the window as James attempted to dribble the ball past Ian, eventually picking the boy up and throwing him over his shoulder to score.  Cheers and laughter filtered through the open window, more than Wilf had heard in years.

“Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves,” he commented to his daughter.

“Suppose,” she allowed, glancing out the window.  “Don’t see why they have to make such a racket.”

“It’s called ‘fun’, Mum,” Donna said, coming inside for a pitcher of iced tea.  “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Sylvia let out an affronted huff, but Wilf and Donna only shared a grin before she left again, Wilf following a moment after.  He was surprised to find Rose standing on the porch alone, fiddling with her phone.

“What are you doing over here?” he asked, frowning.  “Perfectly good seat over by Donna.”

“Oh...I’m fine,” she said, shrugging a little and ducking her head.  Wilf glanced back at the garden, where James was now holding Ian back so that Ian could score--apparently alliances had shifted slightly--before stepping closer to Rose, leaning on the railing next to her.  He caught sight of her phone, the lock screen showing a photo of James and Ian at the coast, heads close together as they studied something in James’ hand.

“Jamie seems pretty taken with that boy of yours,” he commented, nodding at the football game that was quickly becoming a full contact sport.

“Well, it’s hard not to be,” Rose laughed.  “Then again, I made him...I may be a little biased.”

“Nah, he’s a good kid,” Wilf said, then glanced at her.  “Don’t think it’s just your boy, though.”

She gave him a flustered look, then took a breath, shaking her head a little.  “Dunno about that.  I think he just really likes tutoring Ian.  Plus, he’s got that whole...software...thing he’s making.  Ian’s helping.  I still have no idea what it is, but James seems to know what he’s talking about.”

“Maybe,” Wilf replied slowly.  “But I’ll tell you what: this is the longest Jamie’s been home in the last fifteen years.  And if computer programs were enough to get him to stand still, he’d never have left.”

Rose gave Wilf a confused look, and his heart broke for her a little before a shriek from the garden pulled their attention back to the football game, only to find James on the ground, having apparently been tackled by Ian.  James reached up and tickled Ian on his sides, and the little boy became a squirming mass of giggles.

“I su-surrender,” Lee laughed, holding his hands up and backing toward Donna.  “I’m t-too old for this.”

“I think we all need a rehydration break,” James said, sitting up and tousling Ian’s slightly damp hair.  He looked up at the table, then scanned his eyes over to the porch, narrowing his eyes a little at Rose and Wilf set apart.  Rose moved around Wilf, heading for the table as James stood and poured himself and Ian some iced tea.  He turned when she got close, his hand slipping around her waist to the small of her back.  He murmured something, looking concerned, but she smiled and nodded, saying something else softly as her hand slid up his arm to his shoulder.  He leaned down, tucking his cup to his chest as he rested his forehead on hers.

“Oh, you’re disgusting,” she laughed, pulling her face back and wrinkling her nose to reach her free hand up to his damp locks. 

“I beg to differ,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows.  “This is not disgusting, this is athleticism.  If we were in ancient Greece, we’d be revered.”

“If you were in ancient Greece, you wouldn’t need us,” Donna quipped.  “Mind you, Jack’d love it.”

“Oi!” James sputtered, turning and pulling at Ian so that one of the boy’s ears was blocked by his thigh, his wrist over the other.

“What’s she mean?” Ian asked, looking up at him.  Rose, already giggling, completely lost it, leaning on James for support as she laughed breathlessly.

“Thanks a lot, Earth Girl,” James sighed, then looked back down at Ian.  “I’ll explain when you’re older.”

After a brief sit down, the game started again, this time with Donna and Rose taking part in a battle of the sexes--Wilf wasn’t surprised to find it became full contact quite a bit sooner.  He dragged Sylvia out eventually, pushing a glass of wine in her hand and ordering her to cheer up.

“Who’s winning?” Sylvia asked after a few minutes of reluctant attention.

“I think they all are,” Wilf observed as Rose tackled James to the ground.

The game came to a halt when Ian suddenly announced he was hungry again, leading to a piggy back ride via James to the kitchen to retrieve the leftovers for steak sandwiches.  As the sun started to set, the wine seemed to work enough on Sylvia to sacrifice one of her mason jars for Ian and Lee to catch lightning bugs in while everyone else chatted and watched.  Wilf shook his head when he saw James playing with the ends of Rose’s hair, dropping a kiss to her head when she rested it on his shoulder.

“Mummy!”  Ian came running over to them, holding up his jar carrying several warm floating lights.  “James, look!”

“Ohhh...how many did you get?” James asked, pulling Ian into his lap.

“A lot,” he said, holding up the jar to peer at it.  “But you said you can’t put me to work on Sunday, so I decided that includes counting, cause that’s math.”

“Yep, that’s my son,” Rose said with a grin.

It wasn’t long after that that Ian started yawning, and after a quiet conversation, James announced that he was taking Rose and Ian home.  There was a swift round of goodbyes and thank yous, and James was herding them out the door.

“Remind me,” Lee said as they drove off.  “Didn’t you say they w-weren’t together?”

“According to them,” Donna sighed.  “They’re very, very bad at it, unfortunately.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Wilf remarked, thinking of the photo of Rose’s phone, a veritable mirror of the one on his grandson’s, “if that girl hasn’t got feelings for James, I’ll eat all my hats.”

“Even the antlers?” Donna teased.

“Even the antlers.”

oOoOo

“I’m still stunned that she went voluntarily,” Ianto remarked as he and Jack got out of Jack’s car the following Saturday.

“You know she claimed to do it for Ian,” Jack replied.

“Well, of course, but she still _went._ "

Donna had been texting Jack all week, telling him that something needed to be done about James and Rose.  They were so obviously gone on each other, but had stalled somewhere, both afraid to make the first move.  He wasn't entirely sure what she expected him to do, but when Rose had called and asked if he wanted to meet them at the park, he figured he'd at least take the opportunity to see what she was talking about.

A furious stick sword fight was taking place when they reached the playground between James and Ian, while Rose sat in a nearby swing watching.

“You seem a decent fellow,” Ian said.  “I hate to kill you.”

“You seem a decent fellow,” James replied.  “I hate to die.”

Rose caught sight of the two men joining them first, and rolled her eyes.  “How come blokes get all the good parts?”

“Systemic sexism in the media,” Ianto suggested as James and Ian paused to look around at them.

"Ianto Jones, you are the only man I know who would wear a three piece suit to a playground on a Saturday in August," James said, shaking his head.

"Someone has to be responsible for maintaining the style quotient of group," he deadpanned, straightening his cuffs.

"We live in eternal gratitude of your sacrifice," James replied, snapping off a mock salute.

"Uncle Jack," Ian asked, frowning in concentration.  "How well can you rhyme?"

"I do it all the time," Jack told him without skipping a beat, and Ian grinned.

"Okay, you can be Fezzick."

"I'm really not sure how to take that," he muttered to Ianto, who only shrugged in reply.  "So if I'm Fezzick, who are you?"

"My name is Inigo Montoya," Ian proclaimed, brandishing his stick.  "You killed my father. Prepare to die."

Jack flashed a look at Rose, but she shook her head, her expression still amiable, and he nodded back.  Turning back to Ian, he held up his right hand.  "Five fingers."

"Oh," Ian said, lowering his stick.  "That's alright then."

"Who's James?" Ianto asked, looking between James and Rose in a curious way.

"I," James said, spinning his stick impressively, "am the Dread Pirate Roberts."

Realization dawned on Jack as he turned to Rose.  "Which would make you--"

"Mummy is Princess Buttercup," Ian piped up.  "Cause she's the prettiest in the land.  Apart from Elpheba, of course."

"Of course," Jack agreed, nodding earnestly.

"Which means my job is basically to angst furiously," Rose sighed, standing up.

"And to have true love's kiss," Jack pointed out, biting back a smile when Rose and James both froze.  Donna had said they needed help, after all.  "That's how the story goes, isn't it?  I mean, it's been a while, but didn't Roberts turn out to be Buttercup's true love?"

"That's true," Ian said, turning and casting a critical eye over his mother and his tutor.

"Oh, I don't think we need to get that in depth, surely," James said, glancing at Rose nervously.

"Yeah, I don't think that that's necessarily...necessary," Rose floundered, and James nodded.

"No, you've got to have the kiss," Ianto put in, looking down thoughtfully when James whipped around to him.  "I'm afraid the story is incomplete--not to mention unsatisfying--if it's excluded.". He looked up with a dire expression.  "I'm afraid it's imperitive."

James stared at him a moment, a muscle working in his jaw.  "Tell me, in this grand scheme of characters," he said, gesturing with his stick, "who are you?"

"The narrator," Ianto replied evenly.  "Obviously."

"Right."

"He's right," Ian persisted.  "You've got to have true love's kiss."

"It's an opportunity you wouldn't want to miss," Jack said, beaming unapologetically as James glared at him.

"Yes, thank you, _Fezzick_ ," he snapped.  "But you know, we were still at the sword fight between the dread pirate and Inigo.  There's...just...loads of time before we have to think about any...kissing."

"I don't mind skipping ahead," Ian said generously, and James looked cornered.

"Oh...good," he managed weakly, running his free hand through his hair.  "That's...good.  Um."

"He's not going to let this go," Rose muttered.

"Yeah, I gathered that, thanks," he said, rolling his eyes at her, and she shrugged.  "Right, okay.  True love's kiss.  Here we go."

He turned to Rose, flexing his hand at his side.  Jack and Ianto exchanged a glance and looked back at the couple just as James lowered his head...and kissed Rose's cheek.

"There you are," he said quickly, backing up a pace and turning back to Ian.  "True love's kiss."

"That didn't look like the one in the film," Ian said with a frown.

"Yes, well, I don't look like Cary Elwes, either," James said, clearly losing his grip on the situation.

"Don't you think Mummy is pretty enough to kiss?" Ian asked, sounding hurt.

"Of...of course I do," James stammered.  "Of course I think your mum's pretty."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure," Rose said, and James spun around to her.

" _Really_?"

Rose's eyes widened innocently.  "I'm just saying."

"That is _remarkably_ unhelpful."  She grinned at James in response, tongue poking out a little from her teeth.  After a moment, James squared his shoulders, sheathing his stick in his belt loop dramatically.  "Right.  True love's kiss?" he called over his shoulder.

"Uh huh," Ian said, brandishing his stick at imaginary foes.

The grin dropped from Rose's face an instant before his hand came up to cup the back of her head, lowering his own to kiss her.

And keep on kissing her.

Jack's brows shot up as the moment extended longer, and there was a subtle shift as they both relaxed into the kiss.  James angled his head slightly as he slid his free arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and one of her hands came up to the back of his neck.  The point of Ian's stick lowered to the ground as he watched with a slightly bemused expression.  A clicking sound to the side distracted Jack, and he turned his head to see Ianto holding a stopwatch he'd pulled from god knew where.  He glanced at Jack, arching a brow, before Jack turned back to the couple with a small smile.

When James finally did come up for air a few seconds later, it took him another moment to finally turn back to them, looking slightly concussed.

"Um," he managed, then swallowed hard.  "How...how was that?"

Ian made a thoughtful sound, considering him.  "Better."

"Glad to hear it," James said, lips twitching as he glanced down at Rose, flushed at his side.  She looked up, catching his gaze and bringing her hand up to nibble on her thumbnail.

"Ice cream," Ianto said suddenly, breaking the silence that was verging on incredibly awkward.

Jack turned to him, nonplussed.  "What?"

"We need ice cream," he explained.  "It's very warm.  We should take Ian and get ice cream."

"Can we, Mummy?" Ian asked.

"Hmmm?"  Rose tore her eyes from James, looking back at them confusedly for a moment.  "Oh...yeah, that's fine.  No quadruple scoops!" she added to Jack with a warning glare.  "Not unless you're gonna deal with the cleanup and sugar rush."

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly, reaching out for Ian's hand.  "Come on, kiddo."

"Are you going to tell Donna?" Ianto asked in a low voice as they strolled toward the ice cream stand.

"Are you kidding?" he snorted.  "Do you know how often I know something before Donna?  Nah, I'm holding onto this one as long as possible."

oOoOo

"Well that was...unexpected," James said when the other three were out of earshot, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Rose hummed in agreement, toying with her necklace as her mind went back over the kiss.  She tried to tell herself it had just been playacting to appease Ian, but with little success...it certainly hadn’t _felt_ like playacting.  She shook herself, forcing a smile.

"You've got to hand it to him, though...stickler for accuracy."

"He is that," James agreed with a laugh, tugging at his ear as he studied her.  "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied quickly, and his eyebrows shot up.  She looked down, picking at her nails nervously.  "Are...are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."  She looked up again as he shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels and studying the ground.  "Tell you what, though."  He looked up, raising his eyebrows in question.  "Far as true love's kiss goes...I've had better."

His lips twitched as he regarded her in amusement.  "Is that so."

"Mhm.  Might wanna work on that."

"Oh, absolutely," he said, and her breath caught as he stepped closer, grinning at her.  "For the sake of accuracy."

"Yeah."

She smiled up at him, letting her tongue poke out a little from her teeth.  His eyes immediately dropped to her mouth, his lips parting slightly.

"James?"

They both turned to see a curvy blonde woman watching them, holding hands with a guarded looking man with cool blue eyes.  Rose looked back at James to see all traces of humor melt from his features as he blanched.  His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but his voice still sounded hoarse.

"Charley."


	22. The Ghosts That We Knew

Every gear in James’ head jammed at the sight of Charley, overwhelmed by the influx of memories and seriously negative emotions.

“I didn’t realize you were back in the country,” she said, smiling at him.  _Smiling_.  God, the things he used to do to make her smile, stupid things...wasteful things, as it turned out.  His ribs suddenly felt a couple sizes too small and shrinking, every breath becoming more difficult.

“Yeah,” he managed finally.  “Have been for...a while."

"Suppose that really means you're leaving soon then," she remarked.  "Two weeks, that's the rule, right?"

"It's...it's not really a _rule_ ," he mumbled, tugging at his ear uncomfortably.  He glanced to the side, catching sight of Rose looking between them with wide eyes, and nearly groaned.  "Sorry, Rose, this is Charlotte Pollard--no!  Davies, now, isn't it?"  He regarded the man standing next to Charley cooley.  "How are you, Paul?  Nice to see you've given up the dream of becoming a Disney princess and gotten an adult haircut--shame about the height."

"Your girlfriend never seemed to mind it," Paul replied, arching a brow.

"Well, standards are falling everywhere."

"I don't suppose we could be adult about this," Charley sighed.

"Absolutely not," James answered.  "Why would I?  After all, I never wanted to grow up, isn't that what you said?"

The whole argument tumbled through his mind, raised voices and angry words that had swiftly laid to ruin something he'd been so sure of.

_"You know who you are?  You're Peter Pan.  The little boy who never wanted to grow up."_

"Listen, James."  Charley let go of Paul's hand to take a step toward James, but he stepped back, barely suppressing the urge to simply bolt.  The look of hurt across her features made him want to scream, but she pushed it away quickly.  "About...before.  I just want to say, I'm sorry."

His head tilted as he considered her.  "Really?  For which part?  The part where you told me to give up everything an hour after my father's funeral?  Or the part where you swore it had nothing to do with another man, who you just happened to marry within a year?"

"That's not fair," she protested with a frown.

"No, it's really not," he said with a shrug.  "Reality rarely is, I've found."

"I asked you to stay," she hissed.

"Is that what that was?" he asked angrily.  "You really need to work on your technique, then, cause that's not how I remember the conversation going."

"It would have gone better if you were actually capable of listening to a voice that's not your own," she snapped.

"Sorry, is this you apologizing?" he demanded.  "Cause if so, you might wanna add that to the list...along with impossibly bad timing," he added glancing down at Rose to find she'd wandered a few feet away and was fidgeting with her phone.

It figures, the first time he gets to kiss her _without_ her completely losing it after, and his bloody ex girlfriend had to show up.

"Charley, darling, why are you wasting your breath?" Paul asked as he stepped closer, and James looked back to see the other man putting his arm around Charley's shoulders.  "He won't listen, he never has.  That was the problem."

"That's funny, I thought _you_ were the problem."

"I was merely a symptom," he replied, and James cocked his head.

"A symptom?"  He shifted his eyes to Charley.  "So something did happen."

"It was just a kiss," Charley mumbled, and James let out a bitter laugh.  "But that's not the point!  Jamie--"

"Don't," he snapped.  "Don't you dare call me that.  Friends and family, they can get away with it.  You're not either.  Far as I'm concerned, you're the girl who never was."

Charley looked like he'd slapped her, and Paul started pulling her away with a thunderous expression.  James felt sick and disoriented, trying to sort out how the day had gone from so good to _so_ bad so incredibly fast, and wanting nothing more that to just get the hell away from all of it.

He brushed past her without another glance, striding away quickly to put as much distance between him and the whole stupid scene as possible.  When Rose called his name, he spun around to her, his frustration breaking as his mind zipped through all the possible ways Rose was going to use the encounter to push him away _again_.

“What?” he snapped.  “What is it I can do for you now?  Cause I gotta tell you, Rose, I’m about at my limit, so I’d rather make it quick.  So go ahead, get it over with, ask me for my notice or tell me you’ll start looking for a new tutor on Monday, remind me how much better it’ll be that way for everyone, because you know, I really love that story.  I really can’t think of a better way to cap off what has turned out to be a _delightful_ afternoon.”

Her mouth opened a little in surprise as she stared at him, then brushed past him, muttering, “Come on.”

His eyes slid closed as regret suddenly suffocated him.  Months of trying to get close to her, and he’d probably just destroyed it all with a few ill timed words.  He opened his eyes after a moment, swallowing hard and turning to trudge after her, feeling like someone should be playing Taps in honor of his whole bloody stupid love life to date.

"This isn't the way to the ice cream stand," he remarked after a moment of tense silence.

"No, it's not," she said shortly as the car park came into view.  "Ten out of ten for observation."

James sighed.  "Is this the part where you tell me you and Ian can find your own way home?"

"No," she said, giving him an odd look before shaking her head.  "Ian's staying with Ianto and Jack, cause he was promised a day at the park.  I dunno about you," she went on, stopping at his car.  "But I've become a bit disenchanted with the scenery."

He stared at her, feeling like he’d lost the plot a bit.  "Sorry...where are we going?"

"I don't care," she replied with a shrug.  "I told Jack we'd pick up dinner."

A glance at his watch told James they had at least four hours before Ian started demanding sustenance.  "I can work with that."

He started breathing easier once they were out on the motorway and he could get up some speed, racing away from Charley and Paul and all the ugliness that had played a part in his long absence.  Rose hadn’t given him a destination, and he hadn’t really chosen one yet, other than _away from there_.  Rose’s presence helped as well...but he still hadn’t quite sorted out what she was still _doing_ there, silently sorting through the inexplicably large collection of CDs he still kept in his car.

“Did you know, there’s this whole branch of art dedicated to exploring...just...everything you could possibly imagine with glass,” she said when he finally managed to take his first deep breath about ten minutes later, and he glanced at her in confusion.  “Things with shape and color and just all sorts of things.  Which isn’t _new_ , I’ll grant you.  But anyway, one thing that’s really impressive is the whole idea of projection, using these completely random and jagged shards, and arrange them so that when light shines through, they create something beautiful.  Anyway, there’s this one installation that’s really great.  All these pieces of glass hanging strategically so that when light shines through, there’s this gorgeous beach on the wall, all calm and tranquil.  But the pieces of glass themselves, they’re shaped like paper planes.  So even when there’s no light to create this illusion of tranquility, there’s all these colored planes going in a million different directions, like they could take you anywhere.”

James stared out at the motorway as his brain processed the seemingly random influx of information.  “Rose, are you trying to distract me?”

“Depends,” she said, looking up from the CDs.  “Is it working?”

A small smile of disbelief fought it’s way to the surface, and he let out a chuckle at the bizarre reversal of their usual dynamic.

“Yeah,” he said finally, as his ribs returned to their original size and shape.  “Yeah, it is.”

They didn’t really _go_ anywhere, unless they counted the Chinese place they stopped to pick up food (they didn’t).  Other than that, it was just a long, four hour loop that started at the park and ended two blocks away at her flat.  It didn’t matter--there was still the feel of miles being eaten by his tires, of the wind whipping through the open windows of the car as he sped along, and Rose with her feet kicked up on the dash, complaining about his music taste...but still joining in at the top of her lungs to “500 Miles”.  At some point, her hand brushed the one he had resting on the gearbox, and he shifted his fingers to grasp hers lightly.  She could easily pull away if she wanted.  She didn't.

Maybe he wasn't quite ready for the firing squad after all.

When he did finally park the car in front of her flat, he stopped her from getting out immediately with a hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.  "For snapping at you earlier.  You didn't deserve that."

She studied him a moment, then shook her head.  "You were stressed out.  I can't imagine I'd be very kind if I ran into an ex out of the blue like that either.  Do you...do you feel better now?"

"I do, yeah," he said, surprised as anyone.  It wasn't that long ago that he would have simply taken off for months for parts unknown after a run in like that.  "Thanks...for being there."

She nodded before arching a brow.  "But for the record, I'm not looking for new tutors on Monday or accepting your notice, so you're stuck for the moment.  That clear?"

He grinned at her.  "Crystal.  Stuck with you, that's not so bad."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good," she said, giving him a tongue touched smile.  "Now that that's cleared up, we should get upstairs with the food before Ian thinks he's going to waste away into nothing."

oOoOo

Thankfully, Jack didn't comment much, other than asking if James was alright.  Dinner further eased his tension, but he still felt slightly at sea over the juxtaposition of kissing Rose and then seeing Charley.

He loitered after Jack and Ianto left, helping Rose put Ian to bed, and gratefully sinking into a chair in the dining room when she offered him tea.  It occurred to him briefly that he felt more at home in her little flat than he did at his house with his family most times, but he pushed the thought away, running a hand through his hair fitfully.  As great as Rose had been that afternoon, he still didn't entirely know where they stood; best not to dwell on ideas like _that_.

"So," she said, setting a mug down in front of him before taking a seat near him.  "You alright?"

He nodded as he sipped at his tea.  "Fine.  Always alright, me."  At her smirk, he arched a brow.  "What?"

"I've been fine a long time," she reminded him, and he gave her a rueful half-smile.  "I'm told that's not actually best.  Someone _also_ told me that it sometimes helps to talk."

"You should really stop listening to that person," he said, taking another drink of his tea.  "Sounds like a self-important prat to me."

She gave him a teasing, tongue-touched grin.  "Only sometimes.". He snorted, leaning back and rubbing at one eye wearily.  "So come on, out with it.  What happened?"

"You know, you and your son always pick the most inconvenient times to listen to me," he remarked.  When she merely arched a brow in response, he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.  "Fine.  I met Charley--Charlotte--a few years ago, on this day cruise off the coast of France, bizarrely themed after this Hindenburg-esque airship."  He chuckled at her incredulous smile.  "I know.  It was the anniversary of its crash, which is apparently cause for celebration."

"Morbid," she commented.

"Incredibly.  How could I pass it up?"

"How indeed," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"She wasn't even supposed to be there," he recalled.  "She'd gotten her ticket from a friend who'd had to cancel last minute.  Anyway, somehow it had gotten around that we were there together, celebrating our engagement or anniversary or something.  Depended who you asked."

"And you went with it."

"Of course," he said with a shrug.  "Do you have any idea how many free drinks we got?"  She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head.  "But it’s hard spending the day supposedly in a relationship with someone and not find out a few things about each other.  Turned out she was just out of school, and a bit restless."

"Enter the globetrotting adventurer," Rose said, her smile a little sad.

"Yeah," he said softly.  "I dunno if I even got a chance to properly ask if she wanted to come with me.  She was just...suddenly there, alongside me for all sorts of adventures."

He'd liked her from the start, a lot, but it took six months for him to realize how much.  He'd gotten sick in South America, really sick, and they'd been at least a day's travel from any decent hospitals.  She'd gotten him to a small clinic, and promptly yelled at everyone until he got the care he needed.  He'd been delirious with fever for days, but the first thing he'd been aware of when he'd finally been lucid was Charley's hand in his.

"How long were you together?" Rose asked, and he started, feeling a bit like he'd been mugged on memory lane.

"Um...three years," he told her, running a hand through his hair.

"Then what happened?"

"Unfortunate circumstances…and a lot of poor decisions," he sighed.  "I think things were already...a little off, the last time we came home.  She'd talked before about staying before that, I think, finding a place to settle down, but I didn't listen, and she still came with me in the end, so I just sort of ignored it.  She might have a point about my inability to listen to others," he mused.

"Only if they might disagree with you," Rose said, but her tone was teasing as she reached for his hand.  He squeezed gently before turning her hand around and running his thumb over the lines of her palm distractedly.

"Probably true.  Anyway, two days after we got here, my dad had a massive heart attack.  He didn't make it--the paramedics pronounced him dead at the scene--and then I was busy arranging his funeral and tying up things with his business and his estate while Donna took care of Mum.  Charley was left to her own devices, which is basically a nice way of saying I ignored her.  Not intentionally, but..."

_"It's fine," she'd said when he called to apologize for getting stuck at the solicitor's office_. _"I'm meeting a friend for lunch anyway."_

A friend.

"It all fell apart after the funeral," he went on after a moment, pulling his hand away to cross his arms over his chest.  "Apparently my mother thought I'd be taking over my dad's half of the business--stocks and bonds and things."

Rose snorted.  “Dream job, that.”

"Not so much," he replied.  "It turned into a whole argument about pretty much everything I'd done wrong with my life up to that point, which basically boils down to being a massive disappointment."

"Right after the funeral?" she asked, looking horrified.

"Still in my suit," he told her.  "So I left.  Charley stopped me on the way to the car to ask me if I thought maybe Mum was right, if it was time for us to start acting like adults."

"She wanted to stay," Rose said slowly.

"Yeah."  His mouth twisted in a bitter smile.  "I asked her where she got the idea we hadn't been acting like adults, and she told me about Paul.  Turns out, while I was taking care of my family, Paul was considerate enough to take care of my girlfriend, including offering her a job."

_“Of course he did, Charley!  How else could he prove how much more of a ‘responsible adult’ he was?”_

_“It had nothing to do with you!”_

“I take it went downhill from there,” Rose prompted, breaking into his thoughts.

“I dunno how much hill was left,” he muttered, leaning on the table with his forearms.  “It was more subterranean, I think.”

_“So while I was taking care of my family, you were flirting around with other men?”_

_“It wasn’t like that!  And anyway, I tried to be supportive, you just said you were alright.  You’re **always** alright, you don’t need anyone.  Well, I do, Jamie.  Did that ever occur to you?”_

_“It certainly occurred to Paul!”_

James swallowed hard.  “Not much else to tell after that.  Nothing that you’d want to hear, anyway.  A lot of shouting--she claimed I didn’t care about anyone’s happiness but my own, and I accused her of finding her happiness with other men behind my back.”

“Ugly.”

“Yeah.”  He leaned back, running both hands over his face wearily.  “Anyway, that’s what happened.  I didn’t even stop to pack a bag, I just left.  I just...had to be gone.  Which probably means she was right in the first place.”

_“It doesn’t have to be like this Jamie.”_

_“Oh, I doubt that very much.”_

_“You don’t have to leave!”_

_“I really, really do.  Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your happiness with the scientist, after all.”_

Rose studied him thoughtfully for a moment.  “That’s why it took you two years to come back.”

“Yeah.  But listen, Rose--”

“I think you did the right thing.”

Every defense he might have made evaporated as he stared at her.  “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, maybe you both could have handled it better,” she explained slowly.  “But it sounds like you both wanted the other to be something you weren’t.  If you’d stayed, taken over your dad’s business, it’d have been like committing suicide with paper cuts, all slow and agonizing.”

“And you say I’m morbid,” he muttered.

“You’d have been miserable,” she said.  “Chaining yourself to a desk, talking about stocks and bonds...you don’t even like thinking about your _own_ money, much less anyone _else’s_.  And if you’d done that for her, you’d have resented her, and made her miserable.  Maybe it hurt, ‘cause you loved each other, or at least thought you did, but it would have been a disaster.”

“Usually is, if I stick around long enough,” he joked, crossing his arms again.

“You know...I’m not under any delusions that you’re gonna stick around forever--”

“Rose--”

“I’m just being realistic,” she cut in.

“Your reality leaves me a bit wanting,” he complained.

“Well, you’ve got the market cornered on idealism, so it’s gotta balance out somewhere,” she countered, and he huffed at her irritably.  “But if you’d let me finish?”

“Fine.”

“You might not be the type to stay put,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean you’re immature or irresponsible.  It just means you’ve got your own way to be happy.  So what if they don’t like it?”

He knew she was trying to make him feel better, but it still bothered him, her steadfast assurance that he was going to leave her.  Then again, he’d pretty much offered up every reason for her to believe that, wrapped in a bow.

“For the record,” she added when he failed to respond, “I like who you are.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

_Just not enough to trust me_.

“Rose--”  He stopped, his mouth moving silently for a second before he shook his head.  “Nevermind.”  He scratched at the side of his head before getting to his feet.  He just didn’t have the energy to argue with her tonight, or any idea how he’d even start to.  Better to just go, sort it out next week somehow.  “It’s getting late, I should get going.  Been a long day.”

“Oh...alright,” she said, looking a little confused.

“What?”

“I...nothing,” she said, frowning at him.  He arched an eyebrow, and she shook her head.  “It’s nothing.”

“Sorry about...everything today,” he said as she walked him to the door.

“Everything?”

“You know, Charley, stealing you from Ian, all my...baggage,” he explained with a shrug.

“I asked,” she reminded him.

“Yeah...still.  Anyway.  I’ll see you later.”

He turned for the door, but he paused with his hand on the handle when she said his name.  He pivoted back to her to find her studying the floor, her brows knitted thoughtfully.

“Your rule,” she said, not looking up, and he flinched.  “That’s not the first time I’ve heard it.  You only stay a couple of weeks.  That’s all you were planning on staying when you first agreed to be Ian’s tutor.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, burying his hands in his pockets.

“But…”  She trailed off, and finally raised her eyes to his, looking like she was trying to figure out a particularly difficult math problem.  “But you’ve been here for months.”

Another memory from his last conversation with Charley hit him like sledgehammer, and he paused, staring at Rose a second before giving her a small smile.

“Yeah,” he said finally.  “Funny, that.”

She continued to watch him for a few seconds, then stepped closer, looping her arms around his neck and leaning up to press her lips to his.  He froze, torn between kissing her back and trying to figure out why the hell she was kissing him _now_.  Then she was pulling back, her eyes wide and uncertain, he decided he didn’t really care.  He found her waist with one hand and dipped his head, straining to keep himself in check in case she decided to panic again.

When she made a little sighing noise and relaxed, one of her hands moving up to scratch at his scalp, he gave up, letting his arm slide around her waist and pull her closer.  He caught her bottom lip between his, sucking on it gently, and he threaded the fingers of his free hand through her hair when the arm on his neck dropped to his waist.  She opened her mouth hesitantly, and he tugged gently, changing the angle of the kiss and sliding his tongue along hers.  The breathless little moan she let out had him pulling her closer, lightheaded and hungry and trying desperately not to just press her against the nearest wall.

“Mummy?”

They pulled away at the same time, and she whirled around as he dropped his hands and looked past her to see Ian standing in the hallway, watching them sleepily with Hardy dangling from one hand.

“Ian,” Rose said, and James ducked his head a little to hide the smug smile at the breathless quality of her voice.  “What...um...what are you doing up?”

“I was thirsty,” he explained.  “Were you and James still playing Princess Bride?”

“Yes, we were,” James said quickly.  “That’s exactly what we were doing, isn't that right, Buttercup?”  She nodded weakly when he gave her a pointed look.  “Right.  Wanted to make sure we got it right next time.”

“Good idea,” Ian said, rubbing at his eye.

“Go back to bed, sweetheart,” Rose said.  “I’ll bring you a glass of water in a mo.”

“Kay,” he said around a yawn.  “Night, James.”

“Night, little man,” James said as Ian turned and padded back into his bedroom.

Rose spun back to him, biting her lip, and he was acutely aware of how close she was still standing.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s alright,” he said, matching her volume and tearing his eyes away from her mouth and up to her eyes.  Not that that was actually all that helpful--she had gorgeous eyes.  He swallowed hard.  “I should, ehm...I should go.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, looking regretful.  It was such a drastic switch from months ago, and he still didn’t totally understand it, but he wasn’t going to argue.  He raised a hand to her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb, but stilling when she leaned into his touch.  He glanced behind her at Ian’s open door, deliberating, then dipped his head for a quick kiss.

That was the plan anyhow.  But then her hands were on his waist again, and both his hands were framing her face, and their mouths were open and wet against each other, lips massaging each other as their tongues chased each other from one mouth to the other.  She pressed herself closer, and his hands moved accordingly, one to cup the back of head as the other skimmed down her spine, coming to rest at the small of her back.

“Are you coming, Mummy?”

James broke away with a frustrated growl, eyeing Rose when she giggled at him.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, voice gravelly as he stepped back and reached behind him for the door handle.  “Right?”  She bit her lip, then nodded a little, a small smile forming on her lips.  “Right.  Get your son some water, for christ’s sake, he’s clearly dying of dehydration.”

Her laughter followed him out the door, and he waited a beat for the sound of the lock engaging before making his way to the stairs and down to the carpark.  He turned over the engine when he got in the car, but didn’t pull out right away, his mind rehashing the whole weird day.

_“Charley, what do you want me to say?  I love you.  I showed you...everything, all those gorgeous things out there, because I wanted to share that with you.  You want me to apologize for that?”_

_“Of course not!  I just--”_

_“You just what?”_

_“I love you too, James...but I don’t think you’re ever going to show me what I want to see.”_

_“And Paul will?”_

_“It’s got nothing to do with Paul!  But at least he knows how to stand still long enough to see what’s right in front of him.”_

“Too right, Charley,” he murmured, finally putting his car in gear and heading home.


	23. Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the ratings elevation. It's nothing crazy explicit, but it's not exactly teen either. And will probably get more explicit at some point later. You've been warned.

Rose didn’t panic about the kiss until the next day.

The whole afternoon had been so strange.  She’d written off the Princess Bride incident the minute she’d seen Charlotte, but then forced it out of her mind completely when she saw James’ _reaction_ to his ex.  She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to rely on him being constantly cool and in control until he clearly wasn’t.  So she’d texted Jack, asking what to do, and he’d suggested tying James to a tree to keep him in the country until he remembered how to breath.  She’d said she had a better idea, and asked him to watch Ian for a few hours.

_That_ part had all made sense.  Taking off in the car to give him at least the illusion of running, distracting him and generally just being present if he needed her.  He’d done it for her, after all...she could spare an afternoon for him.  She owed him that much.  And she couldn’t even blame him for needing that when he told her what happened--it sounded ugly.

It was only after that that it all got a bit...muddy.

She'd been so stupid to kiss him.  She'd just finished telling him how sure she was that he'd be gone one day, cause he would... But then a look of utter defeat had flashed over his features before he'd said good night, and in her head, she heard his grandfather saying how it wasn't any computer software that was keeping him there.

That said... It had been a good kiss.  Kisses.  Really good.  Good enough that she'd completely forgotten what a terrible idea it was to get involved with him like that, at least until the next day when Ian started claiming to be Inigo Montoya again.  She watched as he helped the dread pirate Hardy save Princess Hannah, her worry about the following day mounting.  What was she even going to say to him?  What could she?  "Sorry about kissing you again, but nevermind"?

Probably not.

She started at the knock on the door, nearly spilling her tea everywhere.

"I'll get it!" Ian shouted, scrambling to his feet and darting for the door before she could say anything.  She barely made it to her feet before he whipped the door open with a squeal of delight.  "James!"

"Hey, little man," James said, catching the little boy and hauling him up to settle him on his hip.  "How're you?"

"Mummy says we can't go out today," Ian pouted.

James glanced behind him at the slate gray sky.  "I should think not.  But that doesn't mean we can't still have a good afternoon... If Mummy'll let me stay," he added, flashing a guilty look at Rose.  "I know I probably should have texted."

"Did... We didn't have plans today," she said, still rooted in the spot as her brain tried to catch up.

"No, but... Weekends are _boring_ on my own," he complained as he set Ian back on his feet.

"I should tell Donna you said that," she replied with a grin.

"If you can get a hold of her," he snorted.  "That cookout was an anomaly; she's always out with Lee anymore.  It's like she's forgotten all about me."

"Poor soul."

"It's a real tragedy."

"Mummy, can James stay?" Ian piped up.

Rose hesitated, glancing between the identical hopeful puppy dog expressions, then sighed.  "Yeah, alright.  Dunno why you want to spend your afternoon with a bored six year old, though."

"Six and eleven twelfths, Mummy."

"Had to teach him fractions, didn't you?"

"Yes," James said with a grin as Ian took his hand and tugged him further into the flat.  "But I don't wanna spend the afternoon with a bored kid--no matter how attractive his mum is--so we'll have to find something to entertain ourselves."

"Like what?" Ian asked, completely skating over the throwaway line that had Rose flushing and nearly tripping over her own feet.

"Hmmm... How about a pillow fort?"

"Okay!"

The duvets from both beds, as well as some extra blankets Rose had in the closet, were sacrificed to the fort; it had been too warm and humid to sleep with them anyway.  Rose helped James flip around the sofa in her tiny living room, and James directed Ian where to place the dining room chairs before they spread the various blankets over the top and piled the interior with pillows and sofa cushions.

"You're good at building forts," Ian remarked, cuddling into James' side once they were settled.

"Loads of practice, me," he said, putting his arm around the boy.  "Donna and I used to make them all the time when we were kids."

"Bet your mum loved that," Rose laughed.

"Shockingly, no," James said, then grinned.  "Donna once told her she should be thankful she gave birth to 'architectural prodigies'.  We mostly made them at my grandparents' place after that."

"Bet Wilf taught you everything you know."

"Absolutely."

Ian dug out his board games after a while, and spent the afternoon trouncing the adults in Parcheesi and Monopoly.

"'S a good thing Donna handles your money," Rose commented as James handed over the last of his properties in resignation.  "You'd be destitute in a week without her."

"Probably true," he said with an unconcerned shrug.  "Can you imagine what would have happened if I _had_ taken over Dad's business?"  Rose snorted as she helped Ian put the game away.  "Although, might be a nice change of pace, failure instead of wasted potential."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise when Ian suddenly threw himself at James, wrapping his little arms around the man's neck.

"You're not a failure, James," he said fiercely.  "You're the best tutor ever."

"Thanks, little man," James replied, smiling softly as he returned the hug.  "So, what do you think about dinner?  Pizza?"

Ian let out a thoughtful hum as he pulled back, his hands still resting on James' shoulders.  "Does Inigo Montoya like pizza?"

"Definitely," James replied without hesitation.

"What sort?"

"Sausage and onions."

"That's my favorite too!"

"Imagine that," James said, winking at Rose as she shook her head with a smile.

They started watching Meet The Robinsons while they ate.  James' eyes narrowed when Ian mentioned that Lewis had the same stickey-uppy sort of hair as James, who quickly protested that his was much better by virtue of being real.  Rose had to agree, if only to herself; the man had really _great_ hair, perfect for running her fingers through--

Ian and James both gave her strange looks when she suddenly choked on her pizza.

After they cleared up the food, Ian sat crosslegged at the entrance to the fort with Zippo in his lap to watch the rest of the film.  James adjusted the cushions to recline back, tugging Rose down with him.  She felt his lips brush her hair as she settled her head on his shoulder, and his thumb moved on small circles on her waist.  He paused when her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away, and he relaxed again after a moment.

When the film was over, he played hermit crab Princess Bride with Ian for a while, refusing to look up at Rose when Ian started talking about true love’s kiss--although she did catch a brief smirk.  He surprised her an hour later by cleaning up the living room while she gave Ian a bath, then helped her get her son into bed.

He stayed for a cup of tea after Ian was down, telling her about Wilf kicking him out of the house earlier because he’d been pacing and restless and making everyone edgy.  He’d figured his excess energy would be put to better use with her and Ian than drive his family mad, as fun as that could be sometimes.

“Well, I appreciate it,” she said as she walked him to the door.  “I’m sure Ian does too...you’re much more fun than me.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe,” he said.  “That kid adores you.  I’m just the guy who makes pillow forts.”

“Bit more than that,” she protested.

“Yeah?”

She forgot to breathe again at his suddenly searching look.  In all the activity that afternoon, she’d completely forgotten her panic; now she wasn’t sure if she should be more concerned about the fact that she _had_ kissed him, or by how tempted she was to do it again.  She swallowed hard, and his lips twitched a little before he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured.  “Sweet dreams, Rose.”

He let himself out, and Rose let out a slow breath before she locked the door behind him.  She was in so much trouble.

oOoOo

James’ lips ghosted over her neck as his hands danced over her skin, setting her nerves on fire.  She moaned something unintelligible, and he dipped his head lower, his mouth closing over one breast.  She jumped when she felt his teeth nip at the hardened peak, then arched against him when he swirled his tongue over the area.  Her fingers tangled themselves in his thick hair, eliciting a groan from him when she tugged gently.  He raised his head, switching to her other breast as his fingers trailed up her inner thigh, gliding closer to where she needed him--

- _BEEP BEEP BEEP-_

Rose woke with a gasp at the sound of her alarm, then groaned.  That was _all_ she needed, bloody dreams about the bloody tutor.  Especially dreams like _that_.  She shivered as she recalled the images, then swallowed and shoved them away.  She climbed out of bed and trudged to the shower, steadfastly ignoring the ache low in her belly.

She kept her wits together as she got Ian up and got them both dressed, distracting herself with morning routines.  She was finishing her first cup of coffee when James walked in, and her mouth suddenly went dry.  She fled to the kitchen, muttering about getting another coffee.  She heard him talking quietly to Ian in the dining room as she fixed her cup, then grasped the counter with white knuckles when she was suddenly assaulted with the memory of him groaning against her skin.

When she felt his hand on her back suddenly, she let out an embarrassing yelp, jumping and spinning around and sloshing coffee all over her blouse.

“Rose, are you alright?” he asked, frowning in concern and reaching for her as she cursed and wiped coffee away.

“Fine!” she squeaked, ducking away from his hand.  “Just...gotta change.”

She darted back to her room, changing her shirt quickly before gathering her things for work.  She returned to the dining room to drop a quick kiss on Ian’s head and flash a tight smile at James before scurrying out the door.

Throughout the day, she repeatedly told herself she was being ridiculous.  It was just a dream, people couldn’t be blamed for their _dreams_.  Really, it was probably his fault.  “Sweet dreams” indeed.  Regardless, the point was that it was just a dream, and didn’t have to effect her waking life at all, no matter how gorgeous he’d looked or felt or sounded--

Just a dream.

She was still telling herself this at the end of the day when she returned home.  She didn’t even have the energy to be surprised when it all fell apart at his bright smile the minute she walked in the door.

“Cuppa tea?” he asked, getting up and moving toward the kitchen.

“No!” she shouted, and his eyes widened in surprise.  “I mean, no, it’s fine.  I had a lot at work, bit overcaffeinated to be honest, practically vibrating.”

“I can see that,” he said slowly, looking her over.  She let out a nervous laugh, and he arched an eyebrow.  “There’s chamomile as well, you know.”

“It’s fine,” she repeated, waving him off.  “Think I might try to harness the extra energy to get some things done around the house.  Been a _bit_ distracted the last couple of weekends.”

“Right.”  He stared at her a moment, then shook his head and reached for his computer, shoving it into his bag.  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“We’ll be here,” she said brightly, and immediately cursed inwardly at the inane response when his brows jumped.

“Right,” he managed again.  He reached out a hand to tousle Ian’s hair.  “See you tomorrow, little man.”

“Bye, James,” Ian replied automatically, absorbed in what he was doing on the iPad.

“Virtual chemistry lab,” James explained with a shrug.  “Can’t compete.”

“Novelty is a dangerous thing,” she replied.

“Suppose,” he said, pausing as he slung his bag over his shoulder to give her an odd look.  “Listen, Rose, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Course,” she scoffed.  “Brilliant, me.  Just a bit...scattered.  ‘Cause of the caffeine.”

“And this morning?”

  1.   “Just an accident.”



He studied her a moment, his eyes narrowing.  She started picking at her nails nervously under his scrutiny, but forced her hands to her sides when his gaze dropped to them.

“Okay,” he said finally, apparently giving up as he moved toward the door.  “Have a good night.  Avoid caffeine.”

“Will do,” she promised, holding the door open for him.  He touched her arm as he passed, squeezing briefly, and it felt like an electric shock.  He gave her one last confused look when she pulled her arm back, then ducked out the door.  She closed the door behind him and leaned her head against it, calling herself every sort of idiot.

“Mummy, can we get some magnesium?” Ian asked suddenly.  “It combusts with water.”

“Nope,” she said, lifting her head and turning to him.  “No combusting in the house.”

Unless maybe it was her.

oOoOo

That night he undressed her on the sofa, and the next his hands claimed her in the shower.  James stopped asking if she was alright by Wednesday morning; in fact, he barely spoke to her.  She couldn’t even blame him.  But what was she supposed to say?  She had no reasonable explanation for her sudden hypersensitivity to his presence and the way she practically shoved him out the door at the end of the day--she doubted “I’ve been having really inappropriate dreams about you and now can’t stop thinking about the filthy things you did when I look at your hands” would fly incredibly well.

But she knew there was no way she could _not_ let him stay for dinner without it becoming even more awkward, and she just couldn’t do that to Ian.  She’d just have to grit her teeth and get through it and try not to assault her bloody _employee_ before bedtime.

Luckily, the day was strenuous enough that she didn’t have a lot of time to overthink it before she got home.  There were plates of spaghetti already on the table when she walked in the door, and James was directing Ian to put a basket of garlic bread down in the middle while he followed behind with a bowl of salad.  He glanced up at her with a tight smile, then did a double take at her weary features and picked up a glass of wine, meeting her halfway to the table.

“Rough day?” he asked.

“Yeah.”  Their fingers brushed as she took the glass, and her eyes flashed to his to see him wince.

“Well, dinner’s ready when you are,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets and turning back to the table.

Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched his back, then took a drink of wine to try to steady her nerves and just be cheerful.  It shouldn’t be this hard.

He focused on Ian for most of dinner, smiling and laughing with her son, and it just made her feel worse, because when she wasn’t jumping because his hand brushed hers, she was thoroughly distracted by the way his tongue ran over his top teeth sometimes when he smiled.  She barely kept track of what was being said, and it must have been obvious--James didn’t even try to protest when she said she wanted to clean up on her own and get some extra work done before bedtime.

She was relieved when bedtime did roll around...until she realized that would mean they’d no longer have Ian as a buffer.  She hadn’t actually had to be alone with him since before the dreams started, and wasn’t entirely sure what to do at that point.  She lingered in Ian’s room, rubbing his back until he was nearly asleep, before reluctantly following James out into the hallway.

“I’m just gonna go,” he said, walking back into the dining room to retrieve his bag.

“I--what?” she asked, staring at him uncomprehendingly.  “Why?”

It was a stupid question, and the look on his face as he slung his bag over his shoulder more than agreed with that assessment.  “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” she said lamely, looking down at her hands.

He sighed, and she glanced back up as he ran a hand down his face.  “Look, Rose, I dunno what’s going on with you, but it’s pretty clear you don’t want me here.  And you won’t talk about it, so I don’t know what else to do.  You were fine a couple of days ago, and now you want nothing to do with me, and I have no idea why.”  He watched her a moment, but shook his head with an irritated huff when she didn't say anything.  He made to move past her toward the door, but paused next to her.  “If there’s something you need, you’re going to have to let me know, cause frankly, I’m at a loss.”

She could have let him leave.  Just let him walk out the door, and let whatever it was that was happening die before it was even a tangible thought, maybe even go back to him being just a tutor.  Or she could have talked to him, told him she didn’t know what she was doing or why she even cared all of a sudden, reminded him what a terrible idea it was for them to get involved and probably end up in an even bigger argument.  She could have even just said she was sorry and try to be normal again like they’d been on Sunday, and leave her dreams in her unconscious where they belonged.

She could have done any of that.

What she _did_ , in what she could only assume was a moment of complete insanity, was lift her hands to grasp his shirt and pull him down to kiss him. 

He stumbled in surprise, driving her back toward the wall and catching himself with his forearm next to her head before he fell into her.  His bag dropped with a dull thud by their feet as his free hand came up to her waist, and she fisted one hand in his t-shirt as the other moved up to cup his neck.  It wasn’t particularly _neat_ or finessed, the way their lips met parted to meet again at another angle, but she didn’t care.  She felt dizzy in the best way, and her only conscious thought, as his tongue slipped into her mouth and curled around her own,  was that the reality of him was so much better than any dream, no matter how hot her subconscious could get.

“Rose,” he said after a long moment, breaking away from her lips reluctantly to rest his forehead on hers.  He didn’t say anything else at first, just paused for breath, and she looked up at him uncertainly.  “Um.  Not that this isn’t...lovely, cause it is.  Just top notch snogging, well done.  But um...I’m...incredibly confused.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, still not willing to let go of him.  “Um...sorry.”

“For the confusion, or the kissing?” he asked.  “Please don’t say the kissing, because I really wanna do that again in the very near future.”

She let out a small laugh.  "The confusion, I guess."

"Thank god for that," he said with feeling.  He glanced back at Ian's open bedroom door, then pushed off the wall and took her hand, tugging her toward the dining room. 

"So, you wanna tell me what the hell happened?" he asked, keeping hold of her hand as he leaned back against the table.

She hesitated, not really wanting to tell him that she'd been pushing him away to keep from doing exactly what she'd just done.  "We don't really have to talk about that, do we?"

"You have a better idea?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She bit her lip in consideration.  Everything about this was still a terrible idea, but...it was just kissing, right?  Friends could kiss.  In theory, anyway.  Kissing alone didn't actually require any sort of commitment, he could still leave whenever he was ready.  But in the meantime...she really liked kissing him.

Not the _best_ rationale, admittedly, but she'd done worse.

"You could...take on faith that it was really stupid, forgive me, and go back to kissing me?" she suggested.  "If...you want."

He stared at her a beat, then pulled her closer, raising his free hand to her cheek.  "I like your plan a lot better."


	24. Gifts in Strange Packages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: I'm feeling like complete crap, but I'm putting this up a day early because my angel of a manager covered my shift tonight, and deserves a much better thank you than this, but this is all I've got.
> 
> A/N 2: Many thanks to cereal/allrightfine for giving me the idea of the awesome turtle constellation thingy, cause it's great.

"Have you thought at all about Ian's birthday?" James asked a couple of weeks later.

Rose looked up from the book on human form she was looking at beside him while he continued flipping through the channels on the telly, one arm extended behind her on the sofa back.  "It's not for a couple of weeks yet," she said, and he shrugged a little.  "Let me guess... You _have_ thought about it."

"Well..."  He drew out the word, bending his elbow to tug at his ear, and she laughed.

"Alright, let's have it then."

"I was talking to Granddad," he explained, dropping his hand back down behind her.  "His birthday is next week, you see, and we were thinking maybe we could have a joint party for them both next weekend."

"Why would he want to do that?" she asked, brows knitting in confusion.

"Because it gives him an excuse to see you and Ian, and have a ridiculously large cake that Mum would never allow otherwise," James replied with a grin, then looked back at the telly.  "And... I thought it might be easier for you to actually celebrate if it's not on his actual birthday." He glanced back at her to find her staring at him.  "I mean, we can still do cupcakes or something on his actual birthday, it won't just be _ignored_ , I just figured with the other... Memories associated with the day this would be less... Stressful.  Or not," he added when she continued to look perplexed.

"I told you about his birthday ages back," she said after a moment.

James tilted his head, trying to see her point.  “It was important.”

“Yeah,” she replied, then smiled a little.  “Yeah, that sounds...really great, actually.”

“Good,” he said with a grin.  "Molto bene."

He dropped one hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly, and she only bit her lip a second before leaning in and kissing him.  It was quick, a peck, and she broke away to smile at him before he dropped the remote to cup her cheek as he pulled her in for a more thorough job.  She giggled against his lips, but only until he nipped at her bottom lip, making her open her mouth with a gasp.

It was new, the kissing.  He hadn't been sure what to do when she'd started acting funny again, but although she still hadn't given him a real explanation, he couldn't complain about the end result.  It still wasn't what he'd call a consistent thing--she'd been quick to make a "no kissing around Ian" rule, which apparently included any time he was awake and in the same building, and even when he was asleep, it didn't always happen apart from a quick one as he left for the night--but given the alternative, he'd take it.  Slow progress was better than none at all.

He was _also_ aware that whatever rationalizing she'd done to allow him the occasional snog probably wouldn't extend to anything beyond that.  For that reason, after several breathless minutes started sending his blood flow decidedly south, he slowed the kisses to a few gentle pecks before breaking away completely.  When she set aside her book to cuddle into his side as he turned and started flipping through the channels again, it occurred to him that he'd be hard pressed to decide which activity he liked more.

oOoOo

"Ian, sweetheart, you're going to have to let me get a cup of coffee in me before you ask me anything else," Rose said, massaging her temple gently with the fingers of one hand as her son bounced around the kitchen.

"But _Mummy_ \--"

She interrupted him with a grunt, holding up her other hand.  "Ten minutes."

"Fine," Ian said with a dramatic sigh before trudging back into the dining room.

Rose watched him go, then shook her head and ran a hand through her hair as she turned for the coffee pot, thanking her past self for having the foresight to set the timer the night before.  When her phone buzzed a moment later, she eyed it warily for a few seconds before she checked it.  She rolled her eyes when she saw the new text message from James.

_\--Morning, beautiful.  Excited?_

_\--I don't think I could ever be as excited as you and Ian._

_\--To be fair, I don't think ANYONE is capable of matching Ian's excitement levels.  Let me know when you've mainlined some coffee._

_\--Ten four_

_\--Over and out. (Incidentally, radio jargon is incredibly appropriate if Donna bought what I think she did.)_

Rose stared at the text for a second before shaking her head again, quickly deciding that she wasn't prepared to deal with whatever fresh hell James' sister was about to unleash on her just yet.  She scrolled back up to his first message, smiling a little to herself at his greeting.

"Mu-mmy," Ian sing-songed from the dining room.  "Haven't you had your coffee _yet_?"

oOoOo

"Oh thank God," Rose moaned when Jack texted four hours later that he was downstairs.  "C'mon, Schrunchkin.  You've got Wilf's present?"

"Yep!" He held up the large gift wrapped square.  "Do you really think he'll like it, Mummy?"

"Absolutely," she said, ushering him out of the door and locking it behind them.  She followed as he bounced down to the car park, making a grab at his flailing hand as they crossed to Jack's car.

"Hey kiddo," Jack said when she opened the back passenger door to get her squirming son into his seat.  "You're not excited are you?"

"Nope," Ian said with a grin, and Rose rolled her eyes, cursing the sarcasm gene.

"Uncle Jack, how old is Wilf?" Ian asked as they headed for James' house.

"Seventy-nine," Ianto answered promptly.  Rose snickered at Jack's raised eyebrows.  "What?  It's good to keep track of these things."

"Right," Jack said.  "Because how could knowing the age of our friend's grandfather _not_ come in handy?"

"It just did," Ianto pointed out serenely, and Rose snorted at Jack's sigh.

"That means he'll be eighty next year," Ian said thoughtfully, ignoring the amiable bickering in the front seat.  "When I'm eight!  Mummy, can I celebrate with Wilf again next year?"

Rose had a moment of panic, her mind instantly creating a list of why that probably wouldn't happen, from Wilf's death (seventy-nine wasn't exactly _young_ after all) to the unlikeliness of James' continued presence in their lives (a year was a _long_ time).

"Let's just get through this year for now, okay?" she managed after a moment.

"How did you even find out how old Wilf is?" Jack asked suddenly.

"His military service," Ianto explained.  "Knowing how old he was when he entered the service and where he was shipped off to and when he came home leaves a simple matter of math."

"Of course," Jack said, shaking his head.  "Silly me."

Rose smiled, not missing the way that Jack's hand squeezed Ianto's briefly on the gearbox.

James met them outside, catching Ian with a grunt when the little boy leapt at him and nearly getting beaned in the head by Wilf's present for his efforts.

"Easy, Ian," Rose said.

"James is going to lose his value as a tutor with a dent in his head," Jack added.

"Dunno, could make lecturing more interesting," James said with a grin, hiking Ian up on his hip and leading them into the house.

"Until you mix up Socrates and Sophocles," Ianto pointed out.  "Philosophy wouldn't survive the scandal."

"You know, Ianto, there are times I wonder how you and Jack work," Rose mused aloud.  "And then you say things like that and it all makes so much more sense."

Jack and Ianto grinned at her, while Ian peered over James' shoulder at them.

"They're weird," he informed James.

"Yes, they are," James agreed seriously.  "The Greeks are never safe in this house it appears."

"There's my birthday buddy!" Wilf said with a clap as he came out of the kitchen.

"Wilf!" Ian shrieked, wriggling out of James' arms to run and hug Wilf.  "Happy birthday!  Are you really seventy-nine?"

"Ian!" Rose said sharply.

"Oh, it's alright," Wilf assured her quickly.  "Seen too many wonderful things to be ashamed of my age.  And how old are you now?  Twenty-five?"

"No," Ian giggled.  "I'm seven!"

"Ah, that makes more sense," Wilf said with a nod.  "Bit short for twenty-five."

Wilf led them outside to the garden, where someone had put up balloons and streamers and decorated the table with a festive table cloth.  Ian's eyes were wide as he took it in, and Rose had a surge of gratefulness toward James and his family for including them...as well as whatever power deigned to give them a warm and sunny Saturday despite the late September date.

"Right, pizza should be here any minute," James said, watching Ian carefully place his gift for Wilf on the pile.

"I thought we were doing fish and chips," Rose said with a confused frown.

"My fault I'm afraid," Donna said from behind her.  "Haven't been feeling well, stomach bug.  Not sure I'm up for fish yet.  Do you think Ian will be very upset?"

"Not as long as you got sausage and onion," Rose told her with a grin.  "He'll eat pretty much anything."

"Including Miracle Grow?" Donna asked, shaking her head as Lee surprised Ian, tossing him over his shoulder as the little boy squealed.  "Blimey, but he's getting tall."

"I know," Rose sighed.  "I blame your brother and his insistence on sun and fresh air all summer."

"That's usually a smart plan, blaming Jamie," Donna said, bumping his arm with her shoulder.  "I do it all the time."

"Sorry about lunch," James said quietly as Donna made her way past them to Lee and Ian.  "I dunno why she couldn't just not eat the fish."

"Smell is too strong," Rose told him absently, watching Lee's arm slide around Donna's shoulders as he murmured something close to her ear.

"What?"

Rose looked up at him, smiling at his knit brows.  "You know, for a genius, you're very thick sometimes."

"I know _that_ ," he replied.  "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Everything," she said sweetly, and he looked so adorably perplexed that she couldn't help leaning up to kiss his cheek.  "Pizza is fine, I promise."

The meal was a hit with the younger of the birthday boys, as Rose promised.  The cake Sylvia made was brought out when everyone had their fill, and Ian watched with wide eyes as James pulled a disposable lighter from his pocket and lit the candles.  Wilf pulled Ian into his lap as everyone sang "Happy Birthday", and the two of them cut the cake.  Sylvia tried to argue with Wilf about the size of Wilf's piece, but the older man insisted mulishly that it was his birthday and he'd have whatever piece he liked.  Rose and James groaned simultaneously when he claimed the same was true for Ian and gave him a slice nearly as big as his head.  Sure enough, by the time they got halfway through the presents, Ian was practically vibrating.  He was thrilled with the stuffed turtle that doubled as star projector from Wilf--it went well with the astronomy book they'd gotten him, and Ian was already talking about how it would be friends with Hardy and Hannah.  James winked at Rose when Ian opened opened the walkie talkies from "Aunt Donna and Uncle Lee"; however, the birthday boy got slightly confused when he opened his present from Rose.

"Video games?" he asked, holding the three games up.  "But...Mummy...we haven't got an Xbox."

"We haven't?" she asked, frowning at him.  "My mistake.  I guess I'll have to take them back."

Ian's lower lip jutted out a little as he gazed down at the games unhappily.

"Ian," James said gently, giving the remaining gift wrapped box a meaningful glance when the little boy looked up at him.  Ian followed his gaze, then his eyes snapped back to James on shock for a second before he reached forward and pulled the box toward him to start tearing at the paper.  He shrieked in delight when he saw the picture on the box, making Sylvia wince as he clambered off his chair to hug James.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“You’re more than welcome, little man,” James laughed.  “That’s from me and your mum, though, so you should thank her too.”

Ian hurriedly let go of James to turn his attention to Rose.   “Thank you, Mummy!”

“Aren’t you glad now that I talked you into that?” James murmured close to her ear, that Rose responded to with an eyeroll that made him chuckle.

When Ian started asking if they could hook it up now, James said no, but he promised to set it up when he took them home later.  Then he reminded Ian that he still had Jack and Ianto’s gift left.  Ian looked around, brows knitting again at the conspicuous lack of gifts.  Jack grinned and took his hand, leading him back through the house to the front door; Ianto was already waiting outside on the pavement with a bright red child’s bicycle.  Ian let out another squeal and raced forward to look at it as the adults who’d followed laughed.

“He certainly made out like a bandit,” Donna commented.

“No kidding,” Rose replied, shaking her head a little.  “Oi!  Pavement only!”

“Okay, Mummy!” Ian shouted back over his shoulder. 

“He’s gonna get so spoiled.”

“Hey, I had to get the kid something good,” Jack said, crossing his arms and watching Ianto and James fuss over Ian as the little boy put on his helmet and climbed on his new bike.  “After all, he’s gotten me lucky in the past.”

“Oh lord,” Donna groaned at his rakish wink, and Rose’s eyes narrowed as a memory thunked into place in her mind.

_“Sorry we kicked you out last night, Jack.”_

_“It’s fine, Rosie.  I found my own way to celebrate the birth of my godson.”_

_“What was their name?”_

_“Now, John, if I’d known you’d be so jealous--”_

_“Down boy.”_

_“Her name’s Donna, since you asked, and she’s lovely...if a little sleep deprived this morning.”_

"You're Donna," she blurted out, making Jack grin and Donna stare as if she'd suddenly grown another head.

"Yes," Donna said slowly.  "And you're Rose."

"No, I mean you're Jack's Donna," she said, waving a hand vaguely.  "The one who...helped him celebrate when Ian was born."

"I'm sorry, _what_?" James demanded as he and Ianto joined them.

"Is that what we were celebrating?" Donna asked.

"The time before midnight, anyway," Jack said, leering at her.  "After that--"

"Wait wait wait," James cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose.  "You're telling me that the night you slept with my _sister_ is also my gi--Ian's _birthday_?"

“Your what?” Donna asked as they all stared at him.

“What?”

“You said ‘my’,” she told him, and he swallowed.  “Your what?”

“My...student,” he squeaked, tugging at his ear.  “Yes, student, because that’s what he is, obviously, and that’s...all I was going to say.”

“Didn’t sound like student,” Donna replied, tilting her head a little.

“You should really get that hearing checked,” he retorted as he mirrored her.

“Right,” she said, drawing out the word and watching him.  “That’s the story you’re sticking with?”

“Um.  Yes?”

“Good plan,” Jack said, clapping him on the shoulder and nearly knocking him over.

“I w-would just like to, um, point out,” Lee said suddenly, “that I’m t-totally okay with hearing about my fiancée sp-spending the night with _Jack Harkness_.”

“That he says perfectly,” Jack muttered, his grin frozen.

“Fury does that,” James said, ducking out from under his arm.  He slipped a hand around Rose’s waist to pull her against his chest, turning them slightly so they could see Ian riding on the pavement while still staying in the conversation.  She craned her neck to look up at him, counting in her head and waiting for the penny to drop.  She stopped counting when he paused as he leaned in to kiss her head and blinked.  “Hold on, fiancée?”

“There it is,” Donna said, and she and Rose exchanged a grin.  “All sorts of revelations for you today, little brother.”

“Apparently,” he retorted, raising his eyebrows.  “When did _that_ happen?”

“About the time she found out she was pregnant, I’d wager,” Rose said with a smile.  “Things like that tend to hasten plans a bit.”

“I...what?”

He looked so confused and helpless that Rose had to laugh again, until a shriek and a crash close by had both of them whipping around to see Ian laying in the street under his toppled bike.  They raced over to him, and James pulled the bike off of him as Rose helped him to his feet, checking him over quickly.

"Pavement only, I said," she reminded him tersely, checking the skinned knee and elbow.

"I was on the pavement!"

"Yeah, til you weren't!"

"The wheel slipped!  I tried to get back but it fell over and I hit my head--"

His words petered out into a sniffle as big tears pooled in his eyes.  Rose sighed, then pulled him into a hug.

“That’s why we’ve got helmets,” James said, reaching a hand under Ian’s chin to unclip his helmet and pull it off.  “And plasters.  And candy.”

“Because he needs that after cake,” Rose retorted.

“He’s a wounded soldier,” James argued, gesturing at Ian’s knee, and Ian looked up at him with a giggle.  “He’s coming home a hero, Rose.  Obviously that deserves some reward.  Plus, still his birthday party.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, biting her lip to keep from smiling.  “Washing up and plasters first.  And no more bike for today.  Will it fit in your car?”

“Will it fit in my car,” James scoffed as she stood and let him usher them into the house.  “I can fit anything in my car.  Practically dimensionally transcendental, my car.  I assure, Ms. Smith, that your son’s bike will definitely fit in my car.  I’m honestly offended that you’d think that it wouldn’t--”

“Yeah, alright,” she laughed as he lifted Ian onto the counter in the kitchen and opened a cupboard to pull out a first aid kit.  “My mistake.”

oOoOo

Once they’d gotten Ian cleaned up, bandaged, and settled with his iPad (and bag of jelly babies) next to Wilf, James returned to the conversation that had gotten interrupted earlier.

“So, Donna,” he said.  “Did you tell Mum and Granddad your happy news?”

"What happy news?" Wilf asked as Donna arched an eyebrow at James, who grinned back serenely.

"Lee and I are getting married," Donna told him after a moment, taking Lee's hand and smiling at Wilf and Sylvia.

"Oh, congratulations, sweetheart!" Wilf shouted happily, struggling to his feet to shake Lee's hand.  "That's a good woman you've got there, you'd better take care of her."

"I'll d-do my best," Lee said with a grin.  "I'm sure she'll, um, tell me if I'm not."

"Too right she will," Wilf replied, shaking a finger at him good-naturedly.

"I'll save my congratulations until she actually makes it down the aisle," Sylvia put in primly, and James’ eye narrowed as his jaw tightened in reflexive annoyance.

"Oh, Mum, would it kill you to be happy for your kids just once?" James snapped.

"I'm happy!" his mother protested.  "I'm just saying after last time--"

"Suppose you'd rather her be married to a complete...ly not nice person who was cheating on her," he mused, mindful of Ian watching him but losing his patience with Sylvia quickly.

"Of course not," she spat.  "But it'd have been nice if she'd decided that before the wedding was due to start.  They don't pay back those deposits, you know."

"It doesn't matter," Donna put in quickly, and James huffed in irritation as his knee started bouncing with excess nervous energy.  "We're just doing a civil office union, quick and simple."

"Why?" Rose asked, and Donna stared at her.

"I mean, you guessed it outside," she said.

"Oh my god, you're pregnant," Sylvia realized.  "Well, that explains it."

“Oh, explains _what_ , Mum?” James demanded, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him.  “Please, enlighten us.”

"Now, stop it," Wilf said, attempting to keep the peace as James glared at his mother, who only rolled her eyes.

"Well, how many big city solicitors do you see marrying the office temps?" Sylvia pointed out.

"Mum--"

"Still doesn't explain why you can't have a nice wedding," Rose cut in, ignoring the growing tension completely as she turned more fully toward Donna.  "Just because the baby sped up the plans a bit doesn't mean you shouldn't still get to celebrate."

"Rose would know," Jack said.

"I'm sure," Sylvia muttered.

"Right," James said, bolting to his feet as his patience snapped completely.  "I need a drink, anyone else?  Mum, bit of cyanide, perhaps?"

"I mean, I wasn’t...under as strict of a deadline," Rose said, taking one of his hands and pulling him reluctantly back down to the sofa.  "But we did manage to put it together in three months."

"She's being modest," Jack claimed.  "She did it almost all herself, and it was gorgeous."

"I dunno about all that, but the point is, it can be done," Rose continued.  "And that was on a professor's salary.  I'm sure Jamie wouldn't mind helping foot some of the bill, even if you pay him back later.  Right?"

James blinked at her, his mind coming to a halt at the sound of her voice saying his nickname, making two syllables he’d become resigned to sound like heaven.  "I...yeah.  Of course.  Wedding gift."

"See?" Rose went on with a shrug.

"But I'm not sure I've even got three months," Donna said with an uncertain look at Lee.  "I'm only a month along now and my clothes are already getting a bit tight."

"You'd be amazed at how quickly things can get done if there's enough money involved," Ianto pointed out.  "And if you need any last minute alterations, I can do them morning of the event."

"His dad was a tailor," Jack explained, nodding at Ianto.  "He's magic with an inseam."

"Yeah, I don't wanna know," Rose laughed.  "But really, if you want it, it's doable in a month--six weeks, tops."

"Yeah?" Donna asked, a hopeful little smile appearing.

"Absolutely," Rose assured her.  "And in the meantime, I've got loads of baby books still from when I had Ian.  God knows I don't need them anymore, so I'll send them back with James, yeah?"

"That'd be great," Donna said, looking back at Lee and squeezing his hand.

All James could do was stare at Rose in stunned disbelief.  She made plans with Donna to meet for lunch later in the week to hash out a firmer battle plan, then talking about taking her wounded warrior home to check out his new Xbox before it got too late.

“I’ll help you get everything,” James said, standing and following her through the kitchen and into the garden.  He closed the door gently behind him, then tugged at her arm to pull her closer as he leaned in.

She stopped him with a hand on his chest.  “Ian--”

“Is inside,” he finished.  “And if I don’t kiss you this instant, I might actually combust.”

She hesitated another second, then smiled.  “Can’t have that, can we?”

“God, I hope not,” he murmured as he dipped his head again, his arms winding around her as her hand slid up to cup his neck.

Maybe it was the infrequency, the constant air of danger and expectancy that accompanied every kiss that gave it such a heady feeling whenever his lips touched hers.  James was more prone to think that it was just Rose, the translation of all her potential energy into something amazingly kinetic that somehow made him feel like he was flying even while grounding him more substantially than anything he’d ever felt.  All with a kiss.

Several kisses.  And, if his luck held, several hundred more to come.

He rested his forehead on hers when they eased apart breathlessly, his hand running absently over her spine while her thumb moved in little circles over his bicep.

“What was that for?” she asked after a moment.

“Everything,” he breathed, then chuckled weakly at her strangled attempt to hide her own laughter.  “Honestly...just...what you did in there.  For...not bolting when my mum got like that, or when I...spun into it like I always do when she manages to push every button I’ve got.  For remembering what was important when I got...sidetracked, and reminding my sister that she deserves everything good.”

She looked up at him, studying him a moment, then nodded a little and slipped her arms under his and around his waist.  She tucked her head under his chin, and he pressed a kiss to her hair before resting his cheek on it.

“My pleasure,” she murmured, squeezing his waist a little, and he smiled gently.  “So, um...I’m guessing your mum’s got a lot to do with you always taking off.”

He lifted his head, kissing her hair again before stepping back.  “I guess so, yeah,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets as he stepped off the porch toward the table holding the rest of Ian’s presents.  “I mean, she’s not always like that, obviously.  She can actually be almost pleasant sometimes.  Just...when she does...like I said, she always manages to find all my buttons, and press every single one.”

“And lemme guess...they’re hardwired to your clutch foot and shifting hand,” she said, tugging at his left arm until he pulled his hand out of his pocket.

“I guess so, yeah,” he said, watching as she enveloped his hand in both her smaller ones.  “Donna, she compensates by being loud and brusque to fake a confidence she hasn’t got.  Me, I…”

“You run,” she said, and he lifted his eyes to hers and shrugged helplessly.  “Well, then I’m glad you’ve spent so much time at my place.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm...less opportunity for button pushing,” she said, her tongue poking out a little from her smile and pulling an answering grin to his own lips.  “I kinda like having you around.”

He’d read a study years ago that when a person went through strong enough emotional trauma, they could actually damage the muscles of their heart, leading to tiny scars that lasted for life.  It was physical proof that a heart could break.  When Rose leaned up to kiss him quickly, James wondered if maybe that could happen from the opposite direction as it were, like tears of happiness.  If the tightness in his chest was any indication, Rose was branding herself on his heart a little more every day, and it was the best sort of ache.

He gave a little hum as she pulled away again, squeezing her hand.  “Well, then, we should definitely get these presents together and get back to your place as soon as possible.”

“Absolutely,” Rose said, letting go of his hand and reaching for the games and turtle as he took hold of the xbox and walkie talkies.  “Are you sure you know how to hook that thing up?”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he said witheringly at her nod toward the console.  She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.  “Rose, I set up the entire network topology of Torchwood with built-in scalability and addressing for every router, switch, and computer in the building.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what that means,” she said turning back toward the door.

“It means I can set up an Xbox,” he snapped, shaking his head when she threw a grin over her shoulder at him.

“Glad to hear it.  And you’re sure the bike will fit in your car?”

“Don’t start!”

oOoOo

“Never should have mentioned Torchwood,” Rose said a few days later as she handed James a mug of coffee.  He lifted it in acknowledgement after taking it from her, then took a large gulp, heedless to the temperature of the hot liquid.   “Easy there,” she cautioned with a wince.  “You know, you don’t have to be here today.”

"And leave you with what choices?" he asked.  "Try to work from home, or force Ian to spend his birthday at your office?  No, ta.  I'm fine."

"When did you actually leave Torchwood?"

"What time is it?" he asked, and she groaned.

James had planned to stay for dinner the night before, but then his phone had started going off with so many calls and texts it had become one continuous buzz.  He'd finally answered a call from Jack, and had shot out the door within seconds, saying he'd call her later.  She'd already been in bed when he finally did, explaining something she didn't totally understand about servers getting attacked and a lack of disaster planning, but she did understand that it was bad and he was the best person to fix it; their beloved Doctor.

“Did you at least fix the...whatever problem?” she asked after a moment.

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.  “Much as I could in the middle of the night.  Their main server is back up and running, but there was some data loss.  And they _still_ need a disaster plan.  Even a well planned DOS attack shouldn’t have been able to take out their network like that.  Would you believe they only had one domain controller active?  Not even an RODC back up, just a bunch of stupid member servers that were basically paperweights.”

“Shocking,” she said, shaking her head.  He shot her a sideways look, then laughed and shook his head, sinking lower into the chair he’d collapsed in as some of the tension left his shoulders.  “You really should go home and get some sleep.”

“Not the first time I stayed up all night,” he replied, taking another sip of coffee.

“Maybe not, but you’re not always running all ‘round Torchwood putting out fires, either,” she countered.  “Even if they are metaphorical.  They were metaphorical, right?” 

“Yes,” he said, smirking at her a second before standing.  He brought his hands up to her arms, slouching down to look in her face.  "I'm fine, really.  We're not doing anything too greatly strenuous today anyway, birthday and all.  Thought we'd do some work with hand to eye coordination, maybe some exercises in problem solving."

"You're going to play Xbox," she guessed shrewdly.

"Possibly," he hedged, but his grin was unrepentant.

"Right," she said, drawing out the word.

"Are you still going to stay for dinner, James?" Ian asked from the sofa where Rose had banished him after seeing James’ exhausted features--he was even wearing his specs, a sure sign of fatigue, since he usually avoided them like the plague when he wasn’t actually in front of his computer screen.

"Absolutely," James said, releasing Rose to walk over to the sofa and drop down next to Ian, stretching his arm across the sofa back.  "Still owe you fish and chips, don't I?"

"You don't have to," Rose told him.

"I know," he replied.  "It's fine.  Tell you what, since it is just fish and chips, we'll pick you up from work and then pick up dinner on the way home.  Sound good?"

Rose bit her lip, hesitating.  She hated the idea of him staying late when he was clearly already running on fumes...but she also knew that he could probably stay awake for another twenty-four hours on sheer stubborn willpower if she really challenged him.

"Yeah, alright," she finally relented, picking up his coffee and carrying it over to him.  "I'll text if it looks like I can duck out early."

The plus side of worrying about James, she realized later, was that she had one more distraction besides work.  Days like this had a tendency to make the darker corners of her mind throw painful memories at her.

_"Look at that, Rose...two years to the day."_

_"What day?"_

_"The day I decided not to suffer through another cup of coffee on campus, and got my heart stolen instead."_

She'd take any distraction she could get on days like this.  She almost wished now that she’d said no to the joint party; it had been easier for her to enjoy herself, yeah, but now she didn’t have the insanity of forced cheer and celebration to pull her out of her funk.

By the time James and Ian picked her up from work, she felt nearly as wiped as James looked from her mental avoidance and emotional turbulence.  His eyes narrowed when he saw her, but didn’t otherwise react apart from reaching for her hand and holding it over the gearbox as he drove.

Dinner was quieter than usual, but Ian was happy enough with his fish and chips and leftover cake.  After they cleaned up, Ian asked if they could watch _The Muppet Movie_ before bed, and James and Rose exchanged a smirk before she agreed.  She did tell James he could go home if he wanted, but he’d refused again.  He did stretch out on the sofa with a groan, though--a testament to how tired he really was--and she curled up on the armchair.  Ian sat on the sofa next to James for the film, and Rose smiled a little when his arm wound around the boy automatically.

At some point, she must have drifted a little, because one minute she was watching Kermit flailing, and the next the credits were rolling and Ian was standing in front of her and nudging her shoulder carefully.

“Mummy,” he whispered.

“Sorry, baby,” she said, blinking a couple of times as she sat up straighter.

“It’s okay,” he replied.  “James fell asleep too.”

Her eyes snapped to the sofa.  James was indeed out cold, one arm thrown over his face and his glasses askew.  Her lips twitched a little--the times he’d crashed on the sofa before, he’d always woken up before her, even when they’d taken their accidental nap together months ago.  It was different, seeing him so relaxed...there was no way she could wake him.  She put a finger to her lips, and Ian nodded solemnly as she stood and took his hand pulling him from the room.  He brushed his teeth as quietly as he could, and they maintained a whisper volume as she got him into his jim-jams and got him into bed, promising an extra-long story time the next night to make up for the lack of one tonight.  She switched on his starry turtle—dubbed The Great A’Tuin by James—and kissed him good night before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her.

She went back into the living room to pull a throw blanket over James.  She leaned down to gently pry his specs off, and he made a muffled, sleepy sound as he adjusted his position.  She froze for a second, but when he didn’t make any other sign of waking up, she set his glasses down on the end table and, after a brief hesitation, kissed his forehead before dousing the light and heading to bed herself.

oOoOo

James woke up in the dark, completely disoriented.  He sniffed and blinked, raising his head to take in whatever surroundings he could in the inky darkness, and it only took a moment to realize he was still in Rose’s flat.  Must’ve fallen asleep during the film…

_Sorry, birthday boy_ , he thought glumly, realizing Rose must have put Ian to bed herself, then smiled when he noticed the blanket covering him.  Ever the mum, his Rose.  Well, not _his_...technically.  Although that had all gotten a little blurry lately.

Still, not the first time he’d slept on her sofa.  He laid his head back down, wondering idly where his glasses had gone and whether he’d be able to get another couple of hours of sleep, when a noise made him frown.  It was small and brief, and he might’ve thought he’d imagined it if he didn’t hear it again a few seconds later.

He threw off the blanket, getting to his feet carefully and padding down the hall to the bedrooms.  He heard it again from the right--Rose’s room.  He turned, stepping closer to the door before knocking lightly.

“Rose,” he called quietly, and heard the noise again, louder, and sounding distressingly like a whimper.  He debated his options for a second, glancing around--as if he’d find any _help_ \--before opening the door and stepping silently into the room.

Rose was curled in her bed, rocking a little.  Sweat glistened on her forehead, plastering her hair to it, and tears streaked her cheeks.  Her whimpers were turning into moans, and he stepped closer when her body huddled further into itself.

“No, please, please no,” he heard say as he crouched next to the bed, reaching out a hand to her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Rose,” he whispered.

“Please don’t die.”

Right.  _That_ nightmare, then.  He wasn’t totally sure if he should wake her, or even the best method to--other than maybe not shouting or shaking her.  Before he could decide, however, she suddenly gasped and sat up.  She looked at him uncomprehendingly, her whole body shaking violently as she her breath continued to come in shallow, uneven bursts.

“Rose,” he said again, a little louder, reaching for her cheek, but she jerked away.  He backed off, letting one knee fall to the ground to steady himself--he decided it was safe to assume that standing would only spook her more.  “Rose, sweetheart, it’s over.  You’re home, you’re okay.”

She stared at him for another second before his words seemed to get through, at least a little.  “James.”

“Yeah,” he replied.  “James.  Right here.”

She launched herself at him then, clinging tightly to his neck.  He made a grab at the duvet with one hand to keep from falling backwards as his other arm wound around her trembling body.  She pulled back after a second, though, shaking her head and staring at her hands.

“Rose?”

“Blood,” she said hoarsely, her eyes flying back up to his, fever bright.  “So much blood.”

His mouth fell open a little; all the times he’d dealt with the aftermath of her nightmares, the actual _fact_ of them, the state she woke up in, was a whole other level of pain he couldn’t even try to comprehend.  He got up slowly, adjusting to sit sideways on the bed in front of her.

“No, there’s not,” he said quietly, covering her hands gently with his when her eyes snapped back down to them.  He lifted them, kissing both palms lightly.  “No blood, it’s gone.  It’s over, Rose.  You’re safe at home.”

Tears started welling up in her eyes, and he adjusted his grip to hold both her smaller hands in one of his in order to reach out and pull her closer as a sob broke from her throat.  He combed his fingers gently through hair as she cried into his shirt, releasing her hands to wrap his other arm securely around her back. 

He continued to murmur soft assurances, rubbing her back in small circles for a few minutes, and her sobs eventually petered out into sniffles.  He shifted a little, juggling her in his arms for a second to free a hand before pushing her hair back from her face and cupping her cheek.

“Hello,” he said softly when she looked up at him.  She swallowed hard and looked away again.  “You alright?”  She shrugged a little.  “D’you want anything?”  Another shrug.  “How about...some milk and sugar, with a splash of tea?”

The ghost of a smile passed her lips as she looked up at him again.  “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.  You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little more herself.  “Just gonna...wash my face.”

“Okay.”  He pressed a kiss to her hair before extricating himself carefully.  “Back in a tick.”

Making tea had the added benefit of giving James a few minutes to regroup, feeling genuinely shaken.  He was fairly certain they weren't always _that_ bad, but even so...if he had nightmares like that _ever_ , he was fairly certain he'd sleep even less than he did already.  He didn't even want to think about how much harder it would have been for her if she'd been alone.

Rose's face was scrubbed clean and her hair was brushed when he got back to her room.  She was seated on the edge of her bed, looking down at her hands, but she raised her eyes quickly when she heard him return.  She mumbled her thanks as she took her tea, wrapping her hands around the cup and blowing on the steaming liquid.  He sat down next to her, rubbing her back gently.

"Did I wake you?" she asked after a moment, and he shook his head.

"I was already awake.  Thanks for the blanket," he added, one corner of his mouth turning up in a tight facsimile of a smile, and she nodded.  "Are...are they always that bad?  Only you've never mentioned the...hand thing."

Rose shuddered a little, then shook her head.  "No, it's not always that bad.  Not anymore, anyway."

"Anymore?"

"Well, I mean, when it first happened they were...bad," she explained with a small shrug.  His eyes slid closed painfully as his mind conjured up a picture of her alone and gasping.  "I'm sorry."

His eyes snapped open, and he frowned at her.  "What on earth for?"

"You don't have to--"

"Don't say it," he cut in, his voice quiet and urgent.  "Please don't say it.  Because you didn't ask to be plagued by nightmares, either.  But I care about you, a lot, so as long as you are waking up like that, yeah, I _do_ have to do anything in my power to make you feel safe and secure.  There is no other option, not for me." 

She stared at him for a moment, looking like she wanted to say something, but then dropped her eyes to her tea instead.  James sighed, reaching up to brush her hair back before slipping his arm around her shoulders and leaning forward to kiss the top of her head.

“C’mon,” he murmured, taking the tea from her hands and setting it on the bedside table.  “You should try to get some more sleep, or you’ll be a wreck tomorrow.”

“Suppose, yeah,” she said, glancing at the head of the bed, then biting her lip.  “D’you think you--”

She stopped, looking uncertain, and he tilted his head.  “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head a little.  “Nevermind.”

“No, what?” he asked again.  “What were you going to say?”

“Um...d’you...think you could stay?” she asked hesitantly.  “For a little while?”

“Here?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the bed.

“Forget it, it’s fine,” she said quickly, already stiffening and moving away from him.  “It was stupid to ask--”

“Absolutely.”  He looked over her head as he mentally scanned the last few seconds.  “I mean, absolutely I’ll stay, not that it’s stupid.  That timing could’ve been better.  Sorry about that.”

She let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head.  “‘Nother case of burnt food.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, smiling down at her.  He lifted his free hand to cup her cheek, then dipped his head to kiss her softly.  “C’mon, bed,” he said when he lifted his head, tugging her toward the head of the bed.

After some shuffling, he ended up on his back with one arm behind his head and the other around her as she snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow.

“Thanks,” she murmured, already sounding sleepy again.

“Of course,” he said, his lips brushing her hair.  Of all the things he’d do for her, laying down with her in his arms was by far his favorite.  “G’night, Rose.  Sweet dreams.”


	25. Wedding Jitters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I accidentally deleted this earlier, so I'm posting it again. Sorry!

Weeks passed in a flurry of activity.  James was staying late nearly every night to help Rose with one thing or another, and on weekends they often ended up leaving Ian with Wilf while he and his credit card accompanied Rose and Donna to see caterers, DJs, venue hosts, and what seemed to be an endless list of other people somehow associated with wedding festivities.

James’ favorite part might have been the night they’d ended up at Jack and Ianto’s place, the living room furniture pushed back against the walls as Ianto attempted to teach Lee and Donna how to waltz for their first dance.  After a few less than skillful attempts and some gentle ribbing, Jack changed the music and pulled Rose into a fairly impressive swing routine.  James couldn't decide later whether it was the sight of her skirt whipping around her legs or her flushed and smiling face afterwards that he found more appealing.  She revealed that she'd taken a dance class after Ian was born to get back in shape, and Jack had been the only one she'd been able to talk into taking it with her.  It was at that point that Ianto threw his hands up at them and made himself a drink, designating Jack and Rose as the new teachers.

The worst was when Donna was looking for venues.

Jack texted James a week and a half after the announcement:

\-- _Has the blushing bride found a spot for the wedding yet?_

_\--Not yet.  She's checking out the Lauderdale House today._

_\--Please tell me Rose isn't with her._

_\--Of course she is, those two have been practically joined at the hip. Why?_

_\--That's where her and John got married._

James stared at the text a second, then cursed and typed out a quick message to Donna, telling her to cancel her appointment.

_\--We're already here. Why, what's wrong? No, let me guess, they've got bad Wi-Fi._

_\--No. I don't know. You have to get Rose out of there._

_\--Why? This looks like a great place for a wedding._

_\--Exactly. That's why she had hers there. Don't say anything, but please Donna, just get out._

She didn't text back right away, and he tossed his phone on the table irritably, running a hand down his face.  He doubted Rose suggested the place--she wasn't _that_ masochistic--but he could absolutely imagine her holding her tongue when Donna did, all stiff smiles and dead eyes and-- _dammit, Rose._

When his phone buzzed again, he scrambled for it as Ian looked up at him, startled.

"Math," he instructed, nodding at Ian's workbook.  He opened the text when the boy's eyes reluctantly returned to his work.

_\--They remembered her, asked about John. Why didn't she say???_

_\--Because she's Rose. Is she okay?_

_\--How should I know? She's about as easy to read as smudged hieroglyphics._

James sighed, debating how much trouble they'd all be in if he just called her.  He checked the time; she'd be heading back to work for another couple of hours, and tended to prefer burying herself in work if she was upset during the day, usually ignoring her phone.  And if she _was_ upset, she'd probably freak out if she saw him calling, assuming Ian had fallen out a window or something.  He was staying for dinner anyway, he could gauge her then.  He glanced down at his phone when it vibrated again.

_\--The Chiswick House has an opening in three weeks, but they have that extortionist late booking fee I told you about._

_\--Do it._

He could see the tension around Rose’s eyes as soon as she came home that night, but she didn’t say anything about it.  He didn’t mention it until after Ian went to bed, and then it was only to say that Donna and Lee were going with the Chiswick House instead.

“Getting the most out of their wedding gift, I suppose,” he joked.  Rose closed her eyes and let out a long breath.  “Rose?”

“I got married at the Lauderdale House,” she explained.

“Yeah, I know,” he admitted slowly.  “Jack texted me earlier, but you were already there.  Rose, why didn’t you say something?  None of us would put you through that.”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “ _Donna_ decided to go with the Chiswick House?”

“Yes,” he insisted.  “Did you really honestly think she’d be any happier than me about a place that...haunted?”

She continued to study him for a moment, then sighed and stepped closer to slip her arms around his waist and tuck her head under his chin.  His arms came up around her, his hand moving over her back absently.

“It was awful,” she said eventually, her cheek still against his chest.  “The woman remembered me, said we’d been such a beautiful couple.  I’d rather be forgotten.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she said, her voice a little thick.  She sniffed, then pulled back to look up at him.  “Can you...um.  D’you think you could...stay tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.  Whatever you need.”

The never really talked about the first night he’d slept in her bed, just a muttered thanks the next morning.  But the wedding plans were tougher on Rose than she’d anticipated; James ended up staying over twice more after the venue disaster.  She didn’t have nightmares at all one of the nights, and none of them were as bad as that first time he’d stayed--usually it was just a matter of assuring her it was over, then pulling her close and rubbing her back while she regained her breath.  He made a point, however, of getting up before Ian did, in order to avoid awkward questions that neither of them wanted to answer even if they could.

He _also_ stayed to watch Ian during Donna’s hen night, which was...an interesting experience.  As maid of honor--a title that only Rose was surprised to be given, since she’d planned everything--Donna had decided Rose needed to drink for two since the bride was eating for two and thus couldn’t imbibe.  Rose had taken the role very seriously after the first couple of drinks, apparently.  Donna had brought home a _very_ giggly Rose around two in the morning and told James to have fun before leaving him alone.  It figured that Rose would be a very handsy drunk--it took every ounce of willpower he had to get her into bed relatively unmolested, despite her newly found interest in scraping her teeth against the sensitive skin of his neck.

(When she told him the next morning that everything after the third bar was a blur, he was much happier that he’d stayed firmly on the sofa.)

Her eyes were dancing a few days later when she played him the message he’d apparently left her the night of Lee’s stag party (from Jack’s phone; Ianto, in his infinite wisdom and relative sobriety, had confiscated his).

“There’s a lovely woman here that’s called Cinnamon who is... _very_ friendly,” his recorded voice slurred, and he winced.  “But I have to tell you, Rose, her legs and...assorted...other bits are _no_ match for you--no, of course I’m not on the phone with any--”

“Assorted other bits, huh?” she asked with a tongue touched grin.  “Good to know I can still hold my own against a professional.”

He started to apologize, but then she was kissing him, so he decided she couldn’t be that cross.

oOoOo

The last Saturday in October, five weeks after Donna and Lee broke the news, their wedding day dawned crisp and clear.  James tugged at his bow tie as his eyes wandered over the guests being seated by Jack and Ianto.

“Still can’t believe they p-pulled it off,” Lee said as he sidled up next to James.  “Have you seen the reception area?”

James hummed an assent; he’d helped Rose with the homemade centerpieces earlier before she’d vanished to get dressed.  The head table had been garlanded with deep red blossoms--apparently a decorative tuber called _Arabian Night_ \--strung together with white satin ribbon over a black tablecloth.  On each guest table, over a mirrored plate, were glass pillars of varying heights filled with water containing clear black stones, more of the crimson flowers, and topped with white floating candles that’d be lit before the reception started.

“I wonder why they didn’t just, um, go with roses,” Lee mused.

“Rose doesn’t like them,” James replied automatically, and Lee arched an eyebrow.  “I’d imagine you’d get sick of flower that shared a name with you after a while.”

“Suppose, yeah.”

“Tell you what, though,” he continued, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Ian sitting on the steps and cautiously poking at the rings on his white satin pillow.  “I’m never gonna bet against those two if they’ve set their mind to something.”

“T-too right,” Lee agreed, and James nodded a little before making his way over to Ian and dropping down next to him.

“The girls kick you out?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the little boy said glumly, then brightened up.  “Mummy and Aunt Donna look pretty, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” James said, taking the pillow and spinning it around on one finger while Ian watched with wide eyes.  “Still sticking with Aunt Donna, huh?”

Ian shrugged.  “That’s what she said to call her.  But I have a question.”

“Uh huh?”

“How come I call Uncle Jack ‘Uncle Jack’ but Ianto just...Ianto?”

James paused, considering.  He mentally counted back to when Jack had finally owned up to what everyone else knew was going on with him and the administrative assistant in his department and realized that it probably had a lot to do with timing--Ianto had only become a fixture _after_ John died, and Rose lost whatever it was that had allowed Jack so close to begin with.

Aunt Donna, though.

“Not sure,” he said finally.

He was saved from responding any further when the co-ordinator hurried over to them and told them it was time to get into place.  He handed Ian back his pillow with secured rings as the coordinator bustled him over to the entrance where the flower girl was waiting.  Lee had disappeared, off to his position at the altar, so James was forced to wait awkwardly with the two other groomsmen he barely knew except that one was even worse at holding his liquor than himself, and he couldn’t exactly remember which.  He was about to ask, for the sake of conversation, when one of them let out a low whistle while looking up at the stairs.  He turned, catching sight of his sister first, and grinned up at her.  She’d found a gorgeous dress, bodice overlayed with the same lace the short sleeves were made of, and the layered skirt masked the barely there nine-week tummy.  Her hair was done up and back with a silver head piece that the veil flowed from, and she looked every inch the princess Rose promised she’d be on her wedding day.  She was flanked by two of her bridesmaids, Nerys and Veena, who looked happy to bask in the borrowed limelight.

Then he saw Rose.

It was the same dress.  Intellectually, somewhere, he was aware that Rose was wearing the exact same dress as the other two bridesmaids.  Intellect, however, had taken a seat way back, and all he could do was stare at the way the taffeta swished around her calves just below her knees, and the way it clung to her thighs, and the way the black sash hugged her waist perfectly, and the way the strapless bodice...well...

"You like the dresses then, Jamie?" Nerys asked, and his lip curled in distaste.  She was _not_ a person James liked using his nickname, especially not in that simpering voice.  Especially not when she'd spent most of their teenage years calling him a geek as if it was something she'd scraped off her shoe.

"On some people," he replied, not taking his eyes off of Rose as she stepped closer.

"Rude," she said under her breath, but she was smiling.

"Probably," he said with a shrug, struggling not to make the leap from admiring the dress to imagining taking it off her.  "You look beautiful, Rose."

"You're looking rather dapper yourself, Jamie," she told him, handing him her bouquet to reach up and straighten his bow tie.  "Very James Bond."

"Why thank you, Miss Moneypenny."

"You wish," she snorted, taking back her bouquet and turning to take his arm as the coordinator attempted to marshal them into place.

"Right, ring bearer," the coordinator said, and Rose stepped out of line, tugging James with her, just in time for Ian to catch sight of them as he glanced back anxiously.  James gave him a wink and a thumb's up as Rose took an exaggerated breath, and Ian smiled at them before facing front again and starting down the aisle.

"I want eight thousand pictures of that," Rose sighed.

"Well, I didn't specify the thousands," Donna said from behind them, "but I did tell the photographer to make a point to get the kids."

Rose threw a smile at the bride over her shoulder as James pulled her back into place after an evil look from the coordinator.  "Thanks, Donna."

"And bridesmaids," the coordinator said, and Rose faced front as Nerys started down the aisle.

"Don't make me laugh," Rose warned.  "And _don't_ let me fall."

"Never," he assured her, covering the hand resting on his arm briefly before they started down the aisle.

He took his place beside Lee at the altar, giving him an encouraging nod as the flower girl reached the top of the aisle and was ushered into a seat.  His attention was drawn back to his sister, though, as the wedding march started.

As cliche as it sounded, Donna really did look like she was glowing as she walked down the aisle on their grandfather’s arm.  James starkly remembered her crying on his shoulder when her last engagement ended, hours before the wedding.  As they exchanged a smile now, he silently thanked Rose again for encouraging Donna and making this wedding happen, because _this_ is what she deserved.

“Who gives this woman away?” the minister asked as Wilf and Donna reached the altar.

“Her granddad, and chuffed to do it,” Wilf replied, and James looked down to hide his smile as he shook his head.  “Oh, and her mother.”

The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch.  As Donna and Lee exchanged their vows, James looked past the couple to see Rose watching them with glistening eyes.

“Okay?” he mouthed at her, and she gave him a smile and a little nod.

“They’re beautiful,” she mouthed back, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod of his own.

Rings were exchanged, and then Lee was kissing Donna shamelessly amidst cheers and applause.  James caught Rose’s eye again as the minister presented Mr and Mrs McAvoy, mouthing his thanks and nodding at the couple holding their clasped hands up triumphantly.  She only bit her lip and grinned, watching them.

When James and Rose moved together to walk back up the aisle behind the newlyweds, James’ eyes found Ian watching them from where he sat next to Jack, and he tilted his head a little.  The boy’s face lit up when he caught the hint, bolting up from his seat and racing over to them.  Rose clicked her tongue as James caught him and lifted the boy up onto his hip, but she was smiling as she reached up to ruffle her son’s hair.

“What’d you think of your first wedding, then?” she asked.

“It was long,” he replied, and James snorted.  “But it was pretty.  You and James looked nice.  Are you going to marry James, Mummy?”

“I should be so lucky,” James said, trying to salvage the situation as Rose made a strangled sound.  “But Mummy and I are just...friends.”

 _Friends that kiss_ , a treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispered.  _Friends that probably want to do a lot more than kiss, friends that are in l--_

“Come on, you two,” Donna called, and James felt his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard and let Ian slide to the ground.  “Pictures!”

James tugged at his collar as they followed the rest of the wedding party out into the crisp open air for photos, hoping beyond reason that the fresh breeze would blow away the nearly finished thought before it completely did him in.

“He’s just a kid,” Rose was saying, and he nodded, still looking out at the grounds.  “He wasn’t really--”

“No, yeah, I know,” he cut in quickly, sounding a little squeaky.  He took a measured breath, then glanced down to find her watching him and biting her lip.  “It’s fine.  Really.  He was right about one thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“We do look...just... _astonishingly_ good together,” he said, following it up with a wide grin.  She stared at him, nonplussed, then broke out into laughter.

They, along with the newly married couple, got told off more than once in the group photos for making each other laugh, so much that it became a challenge remarkably quickly.  They kept trying to one up each other, crack the other one up while keeping a straight face...the last part proved the most difficult.  It got to the point that they couldn’t look at each other without losing it, and Sylvia finally called them impossible children and stomped off in a huff.

“Bit like prom,” Rose commented as the photographer adjusted their pose slightly for a couple photo.

“I wouldn’t know,” he said with a shrug.  “Never went.”

“Because he _forgot_ ,” Donna said from the sidelines.

_“Right, eyes forward, if you please.”_

“What, seriously?” Rose asked, barely holding back her laughter.

“Oh, yeah,” Donna went on mercilessly.  “Had a date waiting and everything.”

“I...was busy,” James said, narrowing his eyes at his own flimsy defense met his ears.

“With _what_?” Rose asked.

_“Look here please.”_

“I don’t remember!  It was more than fifteen years ago,” he reminded her, and she chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Probably trying to break in MI-6,” Donna mused.

“Probably,” he agreed, and Rose gave him an incredulous look.  “I was troubled.”

“You were bored,” she corrected, and he grinned.

_“This way, if you would.”_

“Take it as a compliment,” he said, once again ignoring the photographer.  “I forgot prom, but I’ve never forgotten you.”

“Oh, well, that _is_ flattering,” she snorted.

“Oi!”  He huffed at her and shook his head.  “Rose, I think you’re seriously underestimating how extraordinary it is for a seventeen year old boy to pull a date at all.”

“Do they _ever_ stop talking?” the photographer demanded, completely exasperated.

“No,” Donna said, drawing out the word and shaking her head.

“ _That_ is completely untrue,” he asserted, turning and pointing an accusing finger at her.

Like when they were kissing, for example.  Although...they weren’t totally silent then, either; Rose especially was capable of some sounds that were quite distracting during a particularly heated snog.  The flirty, tongue-touched grin she gave him when he turned back to her told him plainly that her mind had moved in a similar direction, and he arched a brow at her as the corner of his mouth tipped up in a lopsided answering smile.

The flash caught them both off guard, and their heads snapped around to see Donna standing beside the photographer.

“Right,” she said, looking smug.  “Now let’s try one with you actually looking at the _camera_.”

After the photographs were taken to Donna's content, they were able to join the reception.  The DJ introduced them in pairs to take their places at the head table; Ian was sitting with Jack, Ianto, Wilf, Sylvia and Lee's parents, and looked to be having the time of his life.  Dinner was a cheerful affair, completely devoid of seafood, and there was only a short moment of panic when it came to the toasts and James and Rose realized simultaneously they'd forgotten to write theirs in the midst of planning everything else.

(Predictably, James rambled on forever, while Rose managed to keep hers short and sweet, but both received hugs from a tearful and slightly hormonal bride.)

After the cake was cut and served and the couple's first dance was successfully negotiated, the guests were free to move about the cabin, as it were.  James drifted over to the family table, abandoned by all but Wilf and Ian.

"Surprised you're not with Rose," Wilf commented.

"Her and Donna are talking about kids and pregnancy," he explained as he dropped into the seat next to Ian.  "A conversation I feel woefully unequipped to take part in and, frankly, am a little frightened by."

"Wilf said he'd be my hon'rary granddad since I haven't got one," Ian informed James.

"Did he?" James asked, cocking an eyebrow at Wilf.

"Uh huh.  He said that means he gets to be my granddad without having to be related to me.  Is that true?"

"More or less," James replied with a shrug as Wilf met his gaze steadily.  He looked down at Ian when the little boy didn't say anything further, and could practically see the wheels turning in his head.  "What's up?"

"Does that mean you could be my hon'rary dad?" he asked, and James froze, staring at him.  He glanced up at Wilf, then across the room to where Rose was talking with Donna, before returning his eyes to Ian.

"That's a little less...straightforward, dads," he hedged.  "Mums are a bit more involved, for one."

"Don't you like my mum?" Ian asked.

"Very much, yeah," he replied quickly.  "It's just...more complicated than that, unfortunately."

Ian sighed.  "Being a grown up sounds very difficult."

"You're telling me," James responded with feeling while running a hand down his face.  "Take my advice, little man, and stay young."  Ian nodded and looked down at his hands, picking at his nails.  James studied him a moment, then sighed and turned as he reached out and tugged Ian's chair around to face him.  "But I'll tell you this: I'd be proud if I was your dad, honorary or not."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yes."

Ian seemed satisfied with that, hopping off his seat to step forward and wrap his arms around James' neck.  James returned the hug, pressing a kiss to the little boy’s hair.

The flower girl, some cousin or something of Lee’s, approached as they pulled apart, asking Ian if he wanted to dance.  Ian gave James a panicked look, and James raised his eyebrows, nodding at the dance floor, and his lips twitched as Ian shyly accepted and let himself be led away.

“I’m sorry about that,” Wilf said quietly as James watched Ian awkwardly attempt to dance.

“S’okay,” he replied, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “Just never really thought about it.  Not in those terms anyway.  But it’s fine.”

Or it would be, after a stiff drink or three.  He shook himself as he headed to the bar, assuring himself it was just the wedding atmosphere that was making everyone, including himself, go a bit barmy.

An hour later, he was still standing near the bar, nursing his third scotch and soda.  He tugged his bow tie loose, letting it hang from his neck as he buried his hand in his pocket.  Ian was on the dance floor again, this time with Rose, and they were both obviously having a blast; he could hear their laughter whenever one of them busted out a particularly ridiculous dance move.

“Well, they’re definitely having a good time,” Donna commented, sidling up beside him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, lips curling into a soft smile as Rose started doing the monkey and Ian followed.  He took a deep breath through his nose as he tore his eyes away from them to look down at his sister.  “What about you, Mrs McAvoy?  Enjoying married life so far?”

“Yeah, but you know what they say,” she sighed.  “The first four hours are the best.”

“That’s a bit pessimistic,” he said, a frown creasing his brow.  “The way you two look at each other, it’ll be at least...oh, five, six hours even before the magic fades.”

“That’s the dream,” Donna said with a wistful tone, and they grinned at each other.  “So then,” she went on, nudging his arm with her shoulder and nodding in Rose’s direction.  “What about that one?”

“What about her?” James asked, looking back at the dance floor to find mother and son now doing the twist, Rose’s taffeta skirt swinging around her legs.

“Are you ready to admit you’re in love with her?”

Ian threw himself at Rose as the song ended, wrapping his arms around her waist, and she laughed as her hand moved to his head, fingers running through his hair affectionately.  The sight made his breath catch as his heart was branded just a little bit deeper.

“Yeah,” he said, knocking back the last of his drink and hissing at the burn in his throat.

Donna’s head whipped around, the unusually candid answer startling her.  “What?”

“I’m in love with her,” he said, setting his empty tumblr down on the bar.  “Completely.”

Another song started, slower this time.  James didn’t look back at his sister, but could feel her eyes on him as he sauntered toward the dance floor.

“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, his hand on the small of Rose’s back.  “I think Uncle Jack is showing off some magic tricks over there,” he added, pointing to the table Jack was sitting at with a group of women, shuffling a deck of cards.

“I dunno that _that_ type of magic is great for a seven year old,” Rose said doubtfully, watching Ian hurry over to the table.

“Ah, he’ll be alright,” James replied, nodding at Jack before pulling her into his arms.  “He’ll keep Jack honest.”

“Trying to make up for your missed prom?” she teased as she let him lead her around the dance floor.

“Nah,” he sniffed.  “Got over that rather quickly.  So did my date, matter of fact.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm, yeah...called me that night to tell me what a great time she had without me.”

“Thoughtful.”

“Very,” he agreed.  “Although, if you’d been my date, I wouldn’t have forgotten so easily.”

“Is that right?” she asked, smiling up at him, then raising her eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully.  “Let’s see, when you were seventeen, I was...ten.”

“Ah.”  His eyes narrowed a little, and he nearly missed a step, but recovered quickly.  “I could see how that could get a little awkward.”

“Just a bit, yeah,” she laughed, and her tongue-in-teeth grin made another heart-stopping appearance.

“Right.  Well, time being the equalizer it is,” he said, spinning her around before pulling her close again, “there’s no one I’d rather be dancing with now.”

He saw her smile fracture an instant before she stiffened in his arms.  He scanned the last few seconds, but came up blank on what might have set her off.

"Rose?" 

She took step back, her face pale, and he wanted to scream.  One day, he swore, he'd be able to say something without unintentionally hurting her.

"I need to go," she muttered, panicked eyes already scanning for exits.

"Rose, please--"

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head and stepping further away when he reached for her.  "I...I can't--I'm sorry."

"Rose!"

She was already moving toward the hall outside the room; she'd probably be sprinting if she weren't in heels.  He glanced around, debating how it would look if he tore after her, then decided he didn't care.  Before he could move off more than a step of the dance floor, however, Ian was on him.

"James?  Where'd my mum go?"

"Ehm...she...had to take care of something," he said.

"Oh.  Can I get more orange drink?"

James looked down at Ian, then up at the door his mother had just skittered through.  He took a deep breath, running a hand over his face.

"Yeah, come on," he said, putting his hand on Ian's shoulders and steering him toward the bar.  He could only hope that the time it would take to get Ian settled again would be enough for Rose to calm down enough to talk to him.

oOoOo

Rose took off when she reached the hall, heels be damned.  She crashed through the door into the cool night, gasping for breath, and wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she squeezed her eyes closed.

_“I shouldn’t be dancing with you at all.”_

_“What if I want to dance with you?”_

_“You deserve better.  I’m…too old, too stuck in my ways.”_

_“But I want you.  Whatever you think I deserve, it doesn’t matter, cause I’ll still want you.”_

The scene played through her mind in excruciating detail, John’s inner turmoil so evident in his eyes before he kissed her.  And, oh, they’d danced.

_“There’s no one I’d rather be dancing with now.”_

“Stupid, stupid girl,” she muttered between gasps as hot tears sprang to her eyes.  “What are you doing?”

“Breathing might help.”

Rose whirled around to the shadows as a figure stepped into the light.  “Ianto!  What...um...what are you doing out here?”

Ianto glanced around with a shrug.  “I tend to need breaks from crowds.  It’s quiet out here.”

“Right,” she said, moving her hands to her hips as she looked down and tried to catch her breath.  “Sorry, um.  I just--”

“It’s alright,” he said.  “I can share the quiet.”

Rose gave him a shaky smile.  “Thanks.”

She looked down again as he stepped closer, standing beside her and looking out at the car park.  She continued to face the building, wiping a hand at her streaming eyes and running nose, her breath still ragged.  Just a minute, she just needed a minute, and she’d be fine.  It was just a dance, nothing more--

“You’re falling in love with him.”

“What?”  Her head snapped up as Ianto turned his to look at her.  His expression was void of any sort of opinion or judgement on the matter, but the statement didn’t leave any room for her to hide.  “I--no.  I don’t...I don’t think...I don’t know.  But I can’t.”

Ianto looked back out at the carpark, his hands slipping into his pockets.  “I think that attitude might be to your detriment,” he said after a long moment.

“Oh, do you?” she asked with a bitter laugh, turning toward him.  “I’m so glad to have the opinion of my dead husband’s best friend’s boyfriend on the matter.  Who else d’you think I should ask?  My...neighbor’s...cousin’s...ex’s cat?”

“You could,” he said with a shrug.  “That seems like a lot of leg work, though.  Plus paying a pet psychic, and that’s always dicey.”

“Oh, never _mind_ ,” she snapped, spinning on her heel and marching toward the door.

“Rose.”  She paused at his voice, but didn’t turn.  “It’s okay to be frightened.”

“I didn’t need your permission,” she hissed.

“No, you don’t,” he agreed.  “You need yours, but you haven’t gotten there yet, so I’m going to say it anyway.  It’s okay to be frightened, or confused, or conflicted, the same way it’s okay to still feel happy sometimes even though John’s gone.  It’s okay to still live even though he didn’t, and to have everything that comes with that life, including the love of someone else.”

“And how exactly would you know what I need?” she demanded, whirling around to him again.

“Because I had to give myself the same permission,” he said softly, and she froze, her jaw dropping open a little.  “I was engaged, years ago.  She died shortly after I started working for Torchwood.”

“I...I didn’t know,” she stammered.  “I’m...I’m sorry, Ianto.”

“She was sick,” he explained, his voice even.  “For...a while.  And then she wasn’t, which was...just as well.  She wasn’t really herself anymore toward the end.  But while I wouldn’t propose to understand your circumstances any more than I would expect you to understand mine, there are some common denominators to grief after the loss of a loved one.  One of them being coming to terms with the fact that you didn’t die when they did.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, not really knowing what else to say.  This was probably the most she’d heard Ianto talk in some four or five years of knowing him, and she had a sinking feeling that was completely her fault.  She’d always sort of figured he was temporary, a balm to Jack’s own wounds from John’s death.  But maybe not...maybe that had just been easier.  “Ianto, I...I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She wasn’t sure what she meant to say, but that wasn’t it.  It was, however, the truth.  To his credit, Ianto only smiled gently.

“If it helps, I’m reasonably certain that no one does,” he said.  “The glory of mankind apparently involves a lot of stumbling into walls and falling down stairs.”  She let out a shaky laugh, and his smile widened marginally before he turned serious again.  “Rose, admitting you have feelings for him doesn’t obligate you to change anything...but changing things wouldn’t cause the world to implode, either.”

“I might hold you to that,” she said thoughtfully as she picked at her nails.

“Well, the good news about that is, if you admitting to the relationship you’re already clearly in with James makes the world blink out of existence, it’ll be very hard to find me and make me pay,” he replied dryly, and she blinked as he swept past her for the doors.  “Come on, we should get back inside before you become hypothermic in the lovely English autumn.”

“Right,” she said, staring at him a second as he held the door open for her before going inside.  She bit her lip thoughtfully as they moved down the hall.  “I’m sorry that I didn’t know about...”

“Lisa,” he filled in.  “But why would you?  I never said, and you had no reason to ask.”

“Still,” she said, and he nodded.  “How have I missed you all these years?”

“To be fair, Jack’s spent a lot of time occupying me in his bedroom,” Ianto replied evenly.  “Or his office.  Or his car.  Or--”

“Yeah, okay, got it,” she laughed, holding up a hand.

“But I’ve been here,” he added quietly.  “And will be.”  He looked away from her, down the hall, and added, “However, I think that someone else has far more urgent needs at the moment.”

Rose followed his gaze to see James exiting the room the reception was in, looking first further down the hall, then turning his head and spotting them.  The relief on seeing them was evident even from a distance, and her heart did a little flip as he hurried toward them.

“Rose!  Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding quickly as his eyes raked over her face before he glanced at Ianto.

“Just taking a breather,” Ianto said.  “Discussing endothermic reactions.  Implosions,” he added with a wink when Rose frowned at him.  “But I think I’ll go find Jack, see how many people he’s swindled so I can get them their money back.”

“Ianto,” Rose called as he moved past James, and he paused to look back at her.  “Thanks.”

He nodded a little and walked away.  James craned his neck around to make sure the hall was empty before turning to Rose again, burying his hands in his pockets as he eyed her.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked.  “I mean, you _bolted_ out of there.”

“I know, I...I’m sorry,” she said.

‘It’s fine,” he replied quickly.  “Well, not _fine_ , but I’m more worried about you.  Rose, if I did something--”

“You didn’t,” she broke in.  She brought her hand up to nibble on her thumbnail distractedly as she looked up at him, feeling like she was teetering on the very edge of safety.  “It’s just...been a while...since I danced with anyone.”  His brow creased more as he stared at her in confusion.  “I think I might have forgotten a lot of the steps...and might step on your toes sometimes.”

His face cleared as realization dawned, and his eyes went soft.  “You’re doing better than you think,” he told her.  “And even if you weren’t...it’s worth a few trod on toes now and then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  He raised his hands to her arms in what was likely supposed to be a comforting gesture, but made him start instead.  “Jesus, Rose, you’re freezing!”

A shiver went through her as she suddenly realized how cold she actually was in her strapless dress, the haze of panic having kept the worst of it at bay until now.  “Yeah, sorry, it’s…colder than I thought.”

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you say?” he asked, already shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket.  Her breath caught on the endearment as he reached around her, slipping the sleeves over her hands and up her arms.  He started rubbing her upper arms when it settled on her shoulders.  “At least _that_ I can reliably do something about.”

She didn’t answer, instead choosing to lean up on her toes to press her lips to his, her hands resting on his waist to steady herself.  One of his hands fell to her waist as the other moved to cup the back of her head, and he kissed her back slowly.  It wasn’t as heated as other snogs, lips parting and meeting with the barest hint of tongue here and there, but it still felt fantastic.  He kissed her with a sort of unhurried assurance that he could do that forever and die happy.

When they did pull apart, she bumped his nose gently with hers before lowering herself back down on her heels, and leaned into his touch when the hand behind her head shifted to cup her cheek.  James’ adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“Definitely worth it,” he said after a moment, his voice a little low and rough.  “Rose--”  He stopped, apparently thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say, and glanced back at the door to the reception.  “We should get back in there.  I told Ian I’d be right back.”

“Oh, god, Ian!”  Rose’s hands flew up to her temples as guilt over selfishly running off and leaving her son alone enveloped her.  “I’m the worst mum ever!”

“You’re really not,” James assured her, tugging at her wrists.  “He’s fine.  I told him you had something to take care of.  And _then_ he attempted to drink his weight in orange fizzy drink, which should make bedtime interesting.”

She let out a little laugh as he smiled at her, twining the fingers of one hand between his.  “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he said, giving her hand a small squeeze.

“And...I think...I owe you a dance,” she said, her free hand toying with a button on his shirt before she smoothed her palm down his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Still have to make up for being ten when you had your prom.”

“Yeah, you do,” he said, frowning and tugging her along as he started walking backwards toward the reception.  “Really, that was just remarkably thoughtless of you.”

“Dunno how I’ll ever make it up to you,” she said with a teasing grin.

There was a falter in his step as his eyes flicked over her with a scorching look, seemingly of their own accord, before he cleared his throat and turned around to open the door.  “Let’s try getting through a dance without you running off with Ianto, for starters.”

“Done.”

oOoOo

Ian was falling asleep at a table when they finally left the reception hours later, and Rose wasn’t far behind as the incredibly long, emotional day took its toll.  James carried Ian as they said their goodbyes to the stragglers (Donna and Lee had departed quietly earlier), and held Rose’s hand as he drove back to her flat, where he once again pulled the sleepy boy into his arms to get him upstairs.  Rose vetoed waking him to get him into his pajamas; she just pulled his covers back and wrestled his shoes off before tucking him in.

“I should probably get going,” James said, with a yawn, rubbing at one eye.

“Can you stay for a few minutes?” she asked, trying not to think too greatly on her reasons for not wanting to part just yet.

He studied her a moment as she took one of his hands in both of hers.  “Yeah, course.”

She tugged at his hand, pulling him into her bedroom before falling into bed.  He hesitated a second, then laid down next to her, his arms sliding around her when she immediately cuddled into him.

“You should change,” he murmured.

“Mmm...in a few minutes,” she said, far too comfortable to move.  “When you leave.”

“Kay,” he replied, lips passing over her hair briefly.  His hand came up to comb through her hair, but stopped when it reached her updo.  “Rose, how many pins have you _got_ in your _hair_?”

“Oh...thousands,” she said, too tired to care.  She felt his chuckle more than she heard it before his fingers set to work ferreting out all the hairpins that had kept her hair from defying gravity all day.  When he was sure he’d gotten them all, he reached over to set them on the bedside table, and she groaned as he shook out her hair with his hand.

“Better?” he asked, and she didn’t even have to open her eyes to tell he was smiling.

“Much,” she replied, snuggling deeper into his side as his fingers moved through her hair.  Her arm, still covered in his jacket, moved around his slim waist, and his hand skimmed over it to massage her upper arm gently as his lips applied pressure to her forehead again.  She was dimly aware that this probably wasn’t exactly how friends were with each other, and that all her rationalities about them were slowly falling to pieces.  A trill of fear about how bad that could be made her hug him tighter.

“Rose?”  When she didn’t reply right away, he lifted her face gently with a finger under her chin.  “What is it, love?”

“Stay,” she said, blinking when she heard the word leave her lips.  She meant tonight, she _had_ to mean tonight, because anything beyond that was impossible.  But the way he was looking at her, the way he’d tensed, he didn’t seem to quite believe her anymore than she believed herself.

Then he was pulling her up to kiss her, his hand tangling in her hair as he eased her mouth open against his.  She brought her hand up to his cheek, the day’s stubble rough against her fingertips, and let her tongue slide against his, moaning a little at the taste of him.  The hand on her arm moved down to her waist under the jacket, pulling her tight against him, and one of her legs slipped between his as her pelvis pressed against his hip.

He broke the kiss breathlessly a second later, and she rested her forehead against his while thanking her own exhaustion for keeping her from getting too overheated.  He moved after a long moment, raising his head to kiss her forehead before easing her back down to his chest.  His fingers disentangled themselves to comb through her hair again, and the tension withdrew from Rose’s body slowly, leaving her feel boneless.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rose.”

The soft murmur reached her ears just before she gave in to sleep completely, and her last thought was that there was a slim possibility that he wasn’t just talking about tonight either.


	26. Twist of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue blatantly stolen with very little apology from David Tennant, god bless his astrology hating soul.

Donna and Lee didn’t go on a honeymoon, since Donna’s unpredictable nausea made her hesitant about travel.  They said they’d save it for their first anniversary, and instead spent a week moving into their new flat that had room for them and the baby (the down payment of which was also funded by James, but they were determined to pay that cheque back).  By the end of the week, though, Donna said she needed to unwind with friends, which was why Saturday found the whole group--Donna, Lee, James, Rose, Jack, and Ianto--at a grubby pool hall.

“At least Ian’s finally getting a look through ‘Grandpa Wilf’s’ telescope,” Rose said, sipping at a pint.

“Yeah, not sure who was more excited about that,” James replied as Jack lined up a shot at the table.  “I heard plans for s’mores.”

“Well, now I’m jealous,” she said.

“Tell you what,” he said, standing as Jack failed to pocket his ball and bit back a rude comment, “we can roast marshmallows on your stovetop later.”

“Ohh, you know I love it when you talk about creating fire hazards in my flat,” she said with a grin, and he glanced at her with an answering smile before going back to analyzing the table.

“You know, you two are so cute,” Jack observed after a swallow of rum and coke.

“We know,” James replied, winking at Rose and leaning down to sink a ball effortlessly.

“Speaking of stars,” Donna said, turning to Rose.  “Remind me, when’s your birthday?”

“Don’t start,” James growled, giving his sister a warning look as he bent over the table for another shot.

“March 19,” Rose supplied, looking between them curiously.  “Why?”

“So Pisces, then,” Donna said thoughtfully, and James shook his head with an exasperated huff as he looked back down at the table.  “Don’t listen to him, he’s always been fairly dismissive of my love of astrology.”

“I can’t think why,” Ianto said dryly.  “Given what an exact science it is.”

“Exactly!” James said as another ball dropped in a pocket.  “You’ll have to pardon me, Donna, my clear delineation between _fantasy_ and _reality_.”

“You just have no sense of adventure,” Donna sniffed, and he straightened with an affronted look.

“No sense of--Donna, I’ve swam with sharks, ridden an elephant, climbed mountains...I’ve eaten brains, for god’s sake!  My sense of adventure is just fine.”

He bent down again for another shot as Rose’s lips twitched in amusement.  “You _really_ don’t like astrology, do you?”

“What was your first clue?” he asked, straightening and returning to the stool next to Rose when he finally missed a shot.  He took a long drink from his own pint as Jack stepped up to the table.  “The problem with astrology--”

“Here we go,” Jack said, hearing the tone that indicated that a quality rant was coming.

“It’s just one of these tropes of modern life that absolutely infuriates me,” James said, and Jack flashed a grin at Donna as she rolled her eyes.  “It’s just a completely ludicrous notion that who you are and what you should bloody wear on the second Tuesday in July is somehow predetermined by your birth date.”  He paused to take another drink of his beer, then turned around to Donna.  “Not to mention the fact that there are get-out clauses everywhere you go. If nothing comes of the predictions, you conveniently forget about it. And the one day of the year when you do meet a tall dark stranger, you say, ‘Oh, _Mystic Meg was right_!’ It's absolute nonsense!”

“Why don’t you tell us how you r-really feel?” Lee suggested, fighting a smile when Donna glared at him.

“You know, Pisces and Cancer are very compatible signs,” Donna said serenely as Jack missed his shot.  James let out a groan, running a hand down his face as he stood and walked over to the table.  “I’m just saying.”

“What your saying is that according to your _magic wheel_ ,” he said, turning back to his sister and, holding the cue stick with his thumb, made dramatic jazz hands at her, “if either my girlfriend or I were born two weeks earlier or later, we’d hate each other on sight.  Forgive me if I find that a _bit_ of a stretch.”

Jack blinked and exchanged a glance with Ianto.  He knew _something_ had happened at the wedding, but Ianto hadn’t been very forthcoming beyond ‘we had a conversation’.  Judging by the way Rose’s eyebrows jumped at the word ‘girlfriend’, though, it was news to her too.

“Yeah, suppose you’re right,” Donna agreed, surprisingly amiable and wearing a chesire grin.  “It’d be silly to think your relationship with your girlfriend could be dictated by your sign.”

“Thank you,” he said, oblivious as he started to turn back to the table.  Then he froze, eyes widening before he swiveled back.  “Wait.  That’s not--I didn’t mean...I just meant...um.”  He stopped, shoulders drooping, when Rose’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  “Bollucks.”

"I expect you meant that in more general terms," Rose said finally, and James took it as the lifeline it was.

"Yes," he said quickly, perking back up.  "Yes, that's it exactly."

"I'm inclined to agree.  If I _were_...dancing with someone," she went on, and his lips twitched, "I doubt I'd give much consideration to his birthday."

"Quite right, too," James replied with a grin.

“Do you think it would be possible for us to simply marry them without their knowledge?” Ianto asked in sotto voice as James leaned over the table again.  “Because this is actually becoming painful.”

As the evening wore on, Jack was more inclined to agree.  At Ian's party, he'd already come to the conclusion that they were together whether they realized it or not, but that had mostly come by way of Rose not flinching away from James' touch and the fact that she'd put her pride enough to the side to allow such a family type function, as well as go in with James on Ian's present.  But tonight was something different.  He'd known James was a goner for a while, but now Rose seemed to be giving as good as she got by way of flirty comments and casual touches.  He nearly choked on his drink when James bent over her to "help" her make a shot; Rose knew how to play pool, had gone dozens of times with Jack and John.  The woman he'd known the last few years would have immediately become irritated if someone even tried to make a suggestion, but all she did was smile, tongue poking out a little from her teeth, when he put one hand over hers on the table and the other on her hip.

It wasn't until late in the evening that the real shock came.

"You're gonna need two more main servers for backup and redundancy," James was explaining.  "And at least as many client access servers for load balancing, and that's just for internal email.  Nevermind what you're going to need to do to the network topology."

"I thought you said it was scalable," Jack replied with a frown.

"Yeah, but that was when you had a couple of offices, barely out of that drafty place on the Scottish moors." James took a pint from Rose as she and Ianto returned with drink orders.  "Now you've the whole big high rise, and have nearly driven Microsoft _and_ Cisco from the British isles."

"Which is entirely thanks to you," Ianto reminded him.

"That's not the point," James said.  "Another outage like that, and you won't have any leverage left.  And if you don't make some serious adjustments, Torchwood is never going to make it off this damp little island and become a serious competitor.  You'll be dust in the wind."

"Maybe you should tell them," Jack suggested.  "Better yet, do it yourself.  Pretty sure they could find a position for their golden boy, even if they have to make one up."

James snorted.  "Sell my soul to Torchwood?  Surrender to Yvonne Hartman?  No, ta.  Besides, I've already got a day job," he added, slipping an arm around Rose's waist and pulling her between his legs.  "And the benefits there are unbelievable."

"You know what I think?" Rose said, and he widened his stance as she turned in his embrace to loop her arms around his neck.

"What's that?"

"I think...that's enough shop talk for the night."

“Do you?”  His voice took on a velvet tone, his hands dropping to her hips, and Jack watched in fascination as Rose’s fingers started playing with the short hairs at his neck.  “And what do you propose we talk about instead?”

“I propose...we don’t talk,” she said, practically _purred_ , and James’ eyebrows jumped an instant before she leaned forward and kissed him.  James’ arms immediately moved around her, pulling her closer; Jack blinked and finally looked away when one James’ hands moved to the curve of her bum.  Ianto was rummaging in his jacket hanging over the back of a stool, and Jack smirked when he pulled out his stopwatch again.

“I love drunk Rose,” Jack said with a grin.

“She didn’t do that when we had all that wine at her place,” Ianto reminded him.

“They hadn’t had true love’s kiss yet, either,” he countered as Donna and Lee approached the table, having vanished for a game of pinball twenty minutes earlier.

“True love’s what?” Donna demanded, then looked past him to see her brother and Rose and her eyes grew wide.  No wonder, either; when Jack looked back, there was no mistaking the depth of the kiss.  “Oi!  Get a room!”

James broke away from Rose reluctantly to cast a dark look at his sister before returning his eyes to the flushed blonde.  “Your topic choice is, as always, impeccable,” he said, his voice rough.  “Remind me to pick up this discussion later.”

“While we’re roasting marshmallows?” she asked, tongue-touched grin making another appearance as she toyed with the neck of his t-shirt.

“See, then we’ll definitely start a fire,” he said, eyebrows waggling as he grinned before dipping his head to kiss her again.

Donna let out an exasperated huff.  “Seriously?”

James made an irritated noise as he again broke away from Rose to glare at Donna while Rose giggled.  She stepped away, picking up her pint and winking at him over it when he frowned, his hand lingering on her waist until she was completely out of reach.

“Safety measure,” she said with another flirty grin, and he growled before rolling his neck.

“Right, pool,” he snapped, grabbing a cue and stepping up to the table to break the rack with such force that the cue ball nearly bounced off the table.

oOoOo

James stopped drinking after the scorching kiss Rose gave him at the pool hall, because at least one of them needed a clear head, and he was driving.  The fact that they’d already decided he was staying at Rose’s wasn’t helping; when the night had gotten late, Wilf offered to put Ian to bed in James’ room, and after some cajoling, Rose had agreed.  He didn’t hesitate during the kiss, but realized shortly after that this probably meant another night on the sofa for him.  Handsy Rose was going to be the death of him.

“You’re sure you’re okay to drive?” Donna asked when they finally left the hall around two.

“Positive,” he assured her, glancing down at Rose as she backed up against his chest twined her fingers with his to pull his arm around her waist.  “It’s not far anyway.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Jack slurred as Ianto attempted to pour him into the car.

“Does that actually rule anything out?” Rose asked.

“Well, I haven’t eaten brains like your boyfriend over there,” he retorted.

“Yeah, how were those, by the way?” she inquired, twisting her neck to look up at James.  “The brains?”

“Tastes like chicken,” he quipped.

“Yeah, I think you’re lying.”

“Well..chicken brains.”

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting,” she replied, looking forward again to shake her head, and he grinned before pressing a kiss to her hair.  “G’night, Ianto.  Good luck with that one.”

He gave them a mock salute as he rounded the car and got in the driver’s side.  They said their goodbyes to Donna and Lee, and James steered her toward his car only for her to stop before he could open the door to pull him down for another heated snog that had him groaning against her mouth as he pressed her against the car.

“Rose,” he breathed after a moment, mustering the will to break away from her when he felt her leg winding around his.  “Rose, sweetheart, um...as much as I’d like to continue this, maybe somewhere a bit warmer?”

“Not cold,” she said, fingering the zip of his jacket and looking up at him through her lashes.

“I’m sure you’re not,” he said, smiling a little.  “But it’s still November, and we’re still in a…fairly dodgy car park in the middle of the night.”

“Right,” she said, straightening and glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the lot.  “My flat would probably be better.”

“Just a bit, yeah,” he said, pulling her away from the door to open it and urge her inside.  He took a deep breath when he shut the door behind her, shaking his head to clear it as he marshalled whatever willpower he had left.  There were a lot of things he wanted to do to Rose, but not if she was drunk.

“So what were you and Jack talking about earlier?” she asked as he pulled out onto the street, running her fingers over his hand on the gearbox.  “About Torchwood?”

“Oh...it...doesn’t matter,” he said, but a glance at her told him he wasn’t getting off that easy, intoxicated or not.  “That problem they had a month ago?  It happened again.  Not as bad--I was able to remote in and fix it--but still, they need to make some serious changes if they don’t want to collapse in on themselves.”

“And you could make those changes happen,” she guessed.

“I could,” he agreed.  “But I won’t.”

“You _really_ don’t wanna work for them, do you?”

“I _really_ don’t.”

“How come, though?” she asked, and he twitched irritably.  “I just mean, if you were to have a real job, that seems like the one you’d probably not want to hang yourself with an electrical cord in a week.”

“Don’t count on it,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.  “Besides, it’s like I said, I’ve got a real job.”

“Riiight,” she said, drawing out the word.  “But you have to admit, your current job description is a bit...fluid.”

He flashed a grin at her.  “I like it that way.”

“Yeah, but it’s like...you could probably walk into Torchwood now and take whatever job you want,” she went on, and his hand tightened on the gearbox reflexively as he shifted in his seat.  “With six months vacation time or something.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted.

“But--”

“Rose,” he cut in, jaw tight, “the only reason I have any association with Torchwood is because if I didn’t, I was going to go to jail for a considerable amount of time.”

“Right,” she said, realization dawning.  “The government hacking thing.”

“Yeah, that _thing_ ,” he replied with a nod.  “Signing up with Torchwood now would feel like locking my own jail cell.”

“But that was fifteen years ago,” she reminded him with a frown.  "Things are different now.  _You're_ different now."

"It doesn't matter," he repeated.  "Look, can we please just drop it?"

"Fine," she snapped, turning irritably in her seat and crossing her arms as she looked out the window.

James glanced at her and sighed.  Great, he was free of handsy Rose, only to be stuck with belligerent and pouting Rose.  At least that might make it easier to take the sofa.

They spent the remaining few minutes of the ride in silence, with James feeling worse with every passing second.  He glanced at her as he parked in front of her flat, his eyes sliding closed when she got out of the car without even glancing back at him.  He followed her up to the flat glumly, pushing her aside gently to unlock the door rather than wait for her inebriated hand-eye coordination to negotiate the lock.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said as he closed and locked the door again behind them.  He turned to her to find her picking at her nails, not even trying to take off her jacket.  “I mean, obviously you’re not going to work for Torchwood--even if you did stay, you’re my tutor.”

“Right,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the word “if”.

“Besides,” she went on, stepping closer and fingering the zip of his jacket, “I liked the topic we explored after Torchwood better anyway.”

James arched an eyebrow as every nerve ending in his body stood to attention.  “Yeah, me too.  We were going to revisit that weren’t we?”

“Mhm.”

He should probably apologize too, for snapping at her, but then she was kissing him again, and he decided he much preferred this state of affairs to the previous.  He let out a groan when he felt her teeth on his bottom lip, and deepened the kiss without a second thought, his hands coming up to her waist.  She tasted like cheap beer and sunshine, or near enough, and he started feeling nearly as drunk as her after a moment of her tongue sliding against his.

Her hands came up to his shoulders, pushing his jacket off, and he let go of her long enough to let it fall to the floor.  By the time he had his arms around her again, she’d fought off her own outerwear, and pressed herself against him as she wound her arms around his neck, all without breaking the kiss.  Before either of them could actually black out from oxygen starvation, she broke away, leaving a trail of kisses across his jaw to his throat, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth when she scraped over his pulse point.

Oh good, handsy Rose was back.

James swallowed hard, trying by force of will to send blood flow back to his brain, with very little success.  He took a deep breath, and managed to move his hands to her hips.  After another second, he even remembered that he was supposed to be pushing her away, not convulsively tightening his hands.

“Rose,” he muttered, nearly groaning again when her cool hands slipped under the hems of his layered shirts.  “Rose!  Um...we need to...stop.”

She backed up quickly, and he had a terrible feeling the color in her cheeks was more shame than lust.  “You don’t want--”

“No, I do,” he interrupted quickly.  “I do...want.  Quite badly, actually.  But, um, not when you’re--impaired.”

“Not when I’m--James, I’m not drunk,” she said, and he stared at her as the world tilted.  “Did I sound drunk in the car?”

“I...no, suppose not,” he said weakly, and he had to admit her eyes were _remarkably_ clear.  “But...back at the bar--”

“Okay, I was a _little_ more intoxicated then,” she admitted.  “But mostly I just wanted to.”

His eyebrows jumped as she stepped closer.  “Yeah?”

“What can I say?”  She ran her hand over his chest as his hands found their way to hips of their own accord, but her eyes shone with an impish light when she looked up at him.  “You’re birthday is just... _really_ sexy.”

Her tongue poked out between her teeth when he let out a startled laugh, and he was still grinning when he raised a hand to cup her cheek.  “Who am I to argue with Mystic Meg?”


	27. Let's Let the Stars Watch

_“Your birthday is just...really sexy.”_

_Her tongue poked out between her teeth when he let out a startled laugh, and he was still grinning when he raised a hand to cup her cheek.  “Who am I to argue with Mystic Meg?”_

She melted against him when his lips descended, moaning against his mouth when his tongue flirted with hers before mapping out the inside of her mouth.  He walked her backwards in the direction of her bedroom, but misjudged the door slightly in his distraction.  He pressed her against the wall beside it anyway, working a knee between her legs as one hand rose to palm her breast through her thin jumper.  She arched against his hand with a groan, breaking the kiss, when his thumb made a pass over her hardened nipple, and he moved his mouth down to the column of her throat.  She let out another moan when he latched on to the join of her neck and shoulder, her fingers tangling in his hair as her hips rolled against his thigh.  He grunted at the friction the movement caused against his almost painfully hard cock, and ripped his mouth away from her skin to focus on stilling her hips with one hand.

"Rose," he scratched out, voice hoarse and breathing ragged.  "Just...just a second.  Um.  It's just I know it's been...a while since...um...just...are you sure?"

He looked down at her--eyes hooded, cheeks flushed, lips swollen--and nearly choked on the confession fighting to be made.  He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his hands itched to tear off her clothes; he had to hear it, because if she panicked later, it might crush him.

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

Whatever control he had left snapped, and he crushed his lips to hers as he pulled her from the wall.  His hands moved to her waist, arms straining as he lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his hips as one arm slid around her and anchored her to him.  One of her arms wound around his neck, and he felt the scrape of her nails against his scalp as her free hand tangled in his hair again.  He growled against her mouth as he carried her into her bedroom to drop her on her bed.  She unwound her legs from around him to tuck them under her and raise herself onto her knees, and he reached for the hem of her jumper to tug it off her.  It flew across the room before her hands were pulling at his shirts, and he reached an arm up behind him to tug them over his head together.

His head bowed over hers as her lips brushed over his shoulder, and he felt her shiver as his hands skimmed up her spine, goosebumps erupting in his wake.  When his fingers unhooked her bra, though, she stiffened slightly, and one of her hands left his hip to move across her body and hold the fabric in place.  He raised his head, arching an eyebrow when she bit her lip.

"What is it?" he asked, raising a hand to tug her lip gently from between her teeth.

"It's just...I dunno, they used to be...better," she said with a helpless little shrug, and he stared at her, nonplussed.  "Before, you know, pregnancy and breastfeeding."

He bit back a smile at the last second, since the shred of rationality he had left realized that would be the worst possible response, no matter how ludicrous the notion that he'd find any part of her less than completely gorgeous.  Instead, he kissed her gently.

"Rose," he murmured as his lips moved over her jaw, "you do realize that I've seen you without a bra before, right?"

"That was...different," she said, her voice becoming a little breathless as he reached her neck.

"Why?"

"I was still wearing clothes then," she retorted, and he paused.

"Alright, but it's not like I'm under any illusions of where anything sits naturally," he countered, resuming his journey over her shoulder, tugging one of the straps down her arm on the way.  "And, let me tell you, I only find it harder not to ogle you when everything is all...free and bouncy."

"Perve," she accused with a smile, and he raised his head to grin at her.

"Oh, absolutely," he said before lowering his head to the other side of her neck.

"But there's...um...stretch marks," she said hesitantly as he repeated his journey over her other shoulder, slipping the other strap down her arm.

"I don't care."  When she still looked uncertain, he shook his head in disbelief.  "Rose, you're gorgeous, and a few superficial marks and...and excess _gravity_ isn't going to change that.  Look, if it helps, I've got a weird chest hair pattern."

"Oh my god, you do not," she said with a snort.

"I do, look!  It's all sparse and patchy.  _And_ , hang on, wait for it."  He spun around, twisting one arm back and around.  "I've got a mole on my back.  But you're not allowed to make fun of that," he added, looking over his shoulder at her, "because I love that mole."

"Noted," she said, fighting a smile as he turned back to her.

"And I think my cock turns purple during sex."

" _What_?"

"I may be wrong about that last part," he admitted, bringing his hands back up to her waist, his thumbs moving over the raised ridges of her hip bones.  "But it's been so long, who can say?"

"You're an idiot," she laughed, and he grinned.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said softly, raising one hand to brush her hair back and tuck it behind her ear.  "No one I'd rather be dancing with."

She gave him a long look, then reached a hand up to his neck to pull him forward and kiss him. The hand on her hip skimmed around her waist to her back as the kiss again turned heated and she shifted to lie back, pulling him with her.  Without breaking away from her mouth, he braced himself with a forearm next to her shoulder and reached down to tug her wrist gently away from her chest, taking her bra with it.

When he finally had the garment gone, he palmed one breast, massaging gently.  Her hand came up to grip his bicep as his thumb moved over her nipple again, this time able to take in the full texture without layers between.  She groaned against his mouth when he pinched his fingers over her nipple, and he broke the kiss to move his head down to her other breast, pulling a gasp from her as his tongue swirled around the peak.  His teeth scraped lightly, and she arched against him before he released her with a pop.

“As I suspected,” he said, the scientific tone he was going for slightly marred by the roughness of his voice, “completely perfect Rose breasts.”

She laughed as he lowered his head again, fingers dancing over her ribs as he left a trail of kisses over her abdomen.  When he reached the button of her jeans, though, he paused as a thought occurred to him.

"Um, Rose?" 

She raised herself up on her elbows to give him a questioning look, but he was immediately distracted by the sight of topless Rose--whose breasts were completely outstanding, regardless of her insecurities.  The uncertainty he found creeping back into her expression when he flicked his eyes up to hers nearly did him in, and he lunged forward again to take the previously neglected breast in his mouth.  She gasped and fell back again with a hand in his hair, and he groaned at her gentle tug as his fingers found their way back to the button of her jeans.  Nimble fingers took care of that and the zip quickly, and her hips bucked when he pushed a hand inside to touch her over the cotton of her knickers.

"Fuck, Rose," he rasped, tearing his mouth from her skin at the feel of moisture through the thin fabric.  He looked up at her face as he slid higher, watching her eyes flutter closed when he found her clit and she arched against his hand.

He swallowed hard before drawing in a slow breath and stilling his hand over her knickers.  When she opened her eyes again, it took all of his restraint not to lean in and kiss her as he withdrew his hand.

"Um, I didn't exactly...come prepared for this," he said slowly.

She shook her head a little to clear it.  "I'm on the pill."

"Oh. That's...that's good," he said weakly and absolutely didn't squeak.  "Yeah, good."

"It's for more than just birth control," she replied slowly, misinterpreting his response completely.

"Yes, I'm aware of _that_ , thanks," he snorted.  "You'll recall I have a sister."

She gave him an odd look, like she couldn't decide whether to laugh or frown.  "Your sister talks to you about the pill?"

"This is Donna," he reminded her, rolling his eyes.  "She talks about _everything_.  But, if it's all the same, I'd prefer _not_ to talk about my sister when I'm about to have sex with a stunning woman."

"Stunning, huh?" she asked.  "Anyone I know?"

"You're adorable," he said, arching an eyebrow at her as leaned down again to kiss her.  When her arm snaked around his waist to pull him closer, he shifted until his hips were between her thighs, arms resting on either side of her head.  He moved his head to one of his new favorite places, the spot on her neck that made her moan the most, and nipped at it.  Her nails scraped down his back in answer, and his hips bucked against her involuntarily.  The friction against his still hard cock made him gasp before returning to her mouth and repeating the action with his pelvis, grinding against her center as she moaned into his mouth.

"You know," he said, breaking away again.  "I vaguely recall that there's a better way to do this."

"Is that right?" she asked as he slithered off the bed. 

He winked at her and hooked his hand around one of her knees, lifting her leg to reach for her trainer.  He tugged her shoes and socks from both feet, and was in the process of toeing off his chucks when she sat up, legs dangling on either side of him.  His abdominal muscles tightened reflexively when she ran her hands over his stomach.  She settled them on his hips, eyes narrowing a little before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the scar above his hip.  He sucked in a short breath, and she grinned up at him as her hands moved together over his waistband.

“You were right,” she told him as she unbuttoned his fly.  “It’s a little sexy.”

“Told you,” he replied, resting one hand on her shoulder and carding the other through her hair as she worked on the zip of his jeans.  “I think you’re just saying that to get in my pants.”

“I just want your pants off,” she said, and he arched an eyebrow as she tugged down his jeans and boxer briefs.

“Can you say that again?  Record it maybe?  I think it’d make an excellent ringt-- _fuck_.”

She cut off his quips by licking the length of his cock, then smirked up at him before taking him fully in her mouth.  His hand clenched in her hair, far enough from her scalp to avoid hurting her, and his eyes slid closed as he grunted, trying not to thrust as her lips pulled back to the head of his cock before passing over the length again.  He let out another curse when she added suction, and pulled away quickly.

“Ro--Rose,” he stammered, “that...that’s lovely, but uh...I’m not gonna last if you do that.”

She gave him a smug look as she licked her lips, and he growled as he leaned down to capture her lips.  He nipped lightly at her bottom lip and reached down for her legs, grabbing both and pulling hard so that she fell back and away from him with a giggle.  He was suddenly struck by how different she looked now, missing clothing aside, from the reserved woman he’d met at the beginning of the year.

“What?” she asked when she caught his stare.

He shook his head a little.  “You’re beautiful.”

She bit her bottom lip, color rising to her face, and he shook himself.  He looked down and skimmed his hands up her thighs to hook his fingers around the waistband of her knickers and jeans.  He tugged them both down, snorting when she kicked her legs a little to help at the bottom, and stepped out of his own jeans and boxers.  She scooted back on the bed while he bent down to tug off his socks; he took hold of one of her legs again as he crawled onto the bed, kissing his way up her inner thigh toward her heat.  When his tongue delved into her wet folds, she squeaked and bucked her hips, and he chuckled against her as he raised one hand to lock her pelvis in place as her hand tangled in his hair.  He pushed a finger of his free hand inside her as his tongue circled her clit, adding a second on the next thrust, and she let out a long moan above him.  He only managed another couple of thrusts, though, before an insistent tug on his hair made him raise his head.

"James...need you," she panted, and he didn't think twice before pulling his hand away and crawling up her body.  He could taste her all he wanted later.

"As you wish," he murmured, kissing her again as he aligned himself with her entrance.

He tried to press in slowly, but she hitched her leg up around his hip and pulled him to her, and he broke away from her mouth to gasp at the feeling of being surrounded by her completely.  He waited a beat to let her adjust to him--and to regain his composure so he didn’t lose it completely--resting his head on her forehead.  When he was certain of his control, he braced himself with a forearm under one of her shoulders and kissed her as he withdrew almost completely before burying himself again with a grunt.  They moved a little haphazardly at first, trying to find the right rhythm, but then her hips were meeting his and his pelvis was grinding against her with each thrust and she was moving her head to kiss his neck and--

“ _Fuck_ , Rose,” he ground out against her, and he felt the vibrations of her answering groan against his skin, in his veins, through his entire bloodstream.  Her short nails scraped down his back again as her other hand squeezed his bicep, and he moved his arm to grab her hand, twining their fingers together as they pushed each other closer to the edge.

His lips grazed her neck in an upward trajectory toward her ear as the heat coiling in his lower abdomen tightened.  "Rose...love...please--"

"Close," she responded breathlessly.  "God, James...touch me--"

He let go off her hand to snake his own between them and run his thumb over her clit in rough circles.  She hadn’t been kidding; as soon as he made contact he felt her start to tremble, heard her breathy moan against his ear, and he let out another curse as she dragged him with her.  She stopped breathing completely when she broke, clenching tightly around him, then let out a long groan as he continued to thrust once, twice, through her orgasm as he chased his own.  He cried out her name when the coil finally snapped and he emptied himself inside her, rocking against her as stars erupted behind his eyelids.

He rested his forehead against hers as he caught his breath, his arm shaking with the effort to hold himself up as the rest of him went completely boneless.  He opened his eyes after a moment, looking into hers, and they both let out a breathless laugh before he kissed her, long and lazy.

She took off for the loo to clean up once he did finally roll off of her with a groan, grabbing something off the floor hastily.  He fished around for his pants and slipped them on before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.  Rose was just coming out of the restroom when he started to return to her room, and he stopped at the sight of her wearing his T-shirt and nothing else.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, fingering the hem.  "It was the first thing I could find."

"Don't apologize for that," he said, handing her the glass and pausing to kiss her hair before moving past her into the loo.  "It looks better on you right now than it ever did on me."

Her tongue-touched grin made a brief appearance as he turned away, and he shook his head a little as he closed the door. 

She’d snuggled into the blankets when he made it back to her room, and lifted up the side for him when he entered.  He smiled as he slipped in the bed and took her in his arm, kissing the top of her head again when she cuddled against his chest.  This was definitely not how he’d pictured the night ending, but there was no way in hell he’d have it any other way now.  He combed his fingers through her hair as she relaxed against him, smiling gently when he felt her breathing even out.

“I love you, Rose,” he whispered in the darkness, wishing that she was less skittish and he was less of a coward.

oOoOo

Rose woke up before James the next morning, which was definitely a first.  They were facing each other when she opened her eyes, foreheads nearly touching, and one arm rested on her waist.  She still found it slightly odd to actually see him asleep ever; he almost always fell asleep after her, and was always up before her, and had so much energy most of the time that it was hard to believe he ever stopped.

She lifted a hand, fingers brushing over a sideburn before moving to his cheek, a little rough after a day of not shaving, and smiling a little as the memories from the night before cascaded through her mind.  She couldn’t really say now what made her let go like that, other than the fact that she was so _tired_ of pretending that she didn’t want him as much as she did.  The week had been an exhausting conflict, with Ianto’s words from the reception haunting her, and at some point the night before she’d decided that the fact that James was here, now, counted for something, and she’d taken advantage of it.

But Ianto had been right; the world hadn’t imploded.  And for now, James was still here.  Seeing him asleep in her bed, completely comfortable, it was almost possible to believe that falling for him didn’t have to hurt, and not everything had to end.

On impulse, she leaned in to kiss him quickly, letting out a squeak of surprise when his arm tightened on her waist and pulled her closer.  He opened his eyes when she pulled away, lips tipping up in a soft smile.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” she replied, a little tentative.

His hand came up, brushing her hair away from her face.  Oh, blimey, she probably looked a right mess after all the...activities last night before sleep.  He didn’t seem fazed, though; he was looking at her with the same look she’d been seeing for...a while.  The one that was full of warmth that seemed to penetrate her heart and spread outwards.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she said quickly, giving a little nod.  He arched an eyebrow, clearly not quite believing her.  “I’m good.  How, um...how are you?”

He sucked in a breath, his eyes rolling upwards.  “Wellll...let’s see.  I just woke up from the best sleep I’ve had in months to a stunningly gorgeous woman kissing me--coincidentally, the same stunningly gorgeous woman I made love to last night.”  He dropped his eyes back to hers and shrugged with a sniff.  “So, all in all, I’d say fair to middling.”

“Shut up,” she said with a giggle, shoving at him playfully.  He grabbed her wrist and used it as leverage to lift her enough to slip his other arm under her, hauling her up and over him to straddle his hips as he turned onto his back.  She settled her hands on his chest as his went to her thighs, thumbs moving over her skin absently.

“You are...so beautiful,” he said, eyes raking over her.  “Have I told you that?”

“Once or twice,” she replied, biting her lip as heat flew to her cheeks.  “But I look like hell right now, I’m sure.”

“Nah, you look like an angel,” he argued.  “A slightly rumpled one, maybe, but one with really _phenomenal_ taste in t-shirts.”  He grinned up at her when she let out a laugh, then glanced around.  “What time is it?”

“I dunno, I just woke up myself,” she told him, finally looking over at the nightstand.  “Oh, blimey, it’s already near ten.  Do you think your granddad’s gonna be cross about me leaving Ian with him all this time?”

“I doubt it,” James replied, pushing her gently off of him and getting out of bed.  “He loves that kid, which is hardly surprising.  But I’ll call him and check in.”

Rose scooted to the foot of the bed, not even trying to hide her appreciation of his lanky frame as he rounded the bed in his boxer briefs, reaching into one of her drawers for the pajama bottoms he’d started leaving at her place and pulling them on before fishing his phone out of his jeans.  He sat down next to her as he dialed and brought to phone up to his ear, resting his elbow on his knee.  His other hand settled on her thigh again, completely natural, and she bit her lip, trying not to think about what his hands had been doing a few hours ago.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said without greeting, wincing a little.  “Late night.  How’s Ian?”  Rose put her head on his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to the top of it during the small pause.  "Good, good.  Glad to hear it.  Yeah, I know.  Thanks, Granddad.  Yeah, sure, put him on." Rose lifted her head in time to see the soft smile that came to his lips when the phone was passed to Ian.  "Hey, little man.  Having fun?"  Rose grinned at James' raised eyebrows while Ian undoubtedly started talking at a thousand miles a minute about his entire night.  "Is that so?  Hydrogen and helium.  Yes, that's what makes your voice go all funny.  Sure we can, yeah.  Really?  Banana and chocolate chip pancakes, huh?"

"God, that sounds divine," Rose whispered, and he nodded vigorously with wide eyes.

"Yeah, she's right here, hang on."  He took the phone from his ear and handed it to her, adding, "I need to locate coffee and food immediately."

She nodded at him, letting him take her hand and pull her up as he headed to the kitchen.

"Hey, Schrunchkin," she said as she put the phone to her ear.

"Hi Mummy!  James said we can learn about stars this week, cause Grandpa Wilf showed them to me through his telescope and their really _cool_!"

"They are, yeah," she agreed, leaning against the kitchen counter while James puttered in the kitchen making coffee.  "You had a good time, then?"

"Yeah, and I got to sleep in James' room, did you know he's got model airplanes?"

"Model airplanes, huh?" she asked, giving James a teasing grin when he whirled around to her.

"I can explain that," he promised.

"And Grandpa Wilf showed me the comic books that James made with Aunt Donna when he was my age," Ian went on.  " _The Adventures of Spaceman and Earth Girl._ They saved the world from evil pepper pots," he added with a giggle.

"Thoughtful of them," she replied, eyes dancing at James' quizzical look.  "Pepper pots can be awfully snarky."

"So can blondes," James said with an arched brow, and she snickered.  "I was seven.  I don't even know why Granddad kept those rags."

"Did you have a good time, Mum?" Ian asked.

"Yeah," she replied, eyes raking over James' bare back as he set about making toast.  "Had a great time."

She rolled her eyes at the smug look James threw over his shoulder as Ian asked, "When am I coming home?"

"Um...couple of hours?" she hazarded, suddenly feeling guilty about the fact that she'd left her son with someone all night so that she could get her jollies off with his tutor.  "Put Wilf back on, could you?  Love you."

"Okay, Mum," he replied.  "Love you, too."

James waved a plate of toast and cheese under her nose while she waited for Wilf to get on, smiling when she mouthed her thanks and turned to the counter to set the plate down as she ate.  She felt his hands on her hips just before the kiss on her cheek, but he disappeared again as Wilf greeted her.

“Hi, Wilf,” she said quickly, biting into the toast as James set a cup of coffee down by her plate.  “Listen, I’m really sorry about this.”

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” Wilf admonished.  “You deserve a little fun too.  You just take your time and enjoy yourself.”

“I...alright,” she said, not really sure how else to respond.  “Well, I told Ian we’d be there in a couple of hours, let me take you out to lunch as a thank you.”

“I’ll never turn down lunch with a pretty girl,” he replied.

"I bet you don't," she said with a laugh.  It was obvious where James got his flattering charm from.  “We’ll see you then.”

“You know I was thinking,” James said around a mouthful of toast when she hung up, “you probably want to shower before we pick up Ian, yeah?”

“That’d be nice, yeah,” she laughed.

“Right, well, I’d kind of like one too,” he went on, his expression contemplative.  “And it occurs to me that we could really probably save a lot of time and conserve water by consolidating.”

“Is that right?” she asked, tongue running over her teeth as she smiled, and James’ eyes immediately focused on the movement.  He cleared his throat after a second, raising his gaze back to hers with difficulty.

“Um, yeah,” he squeaked, and her smile widened.  “I think the logic holds, yeah.”

It didn’t, at all.  They used considerably more water, and it took long enough for the hot water to be completely gone by the time they were done, but Rose wasn’t even close to complaining.

oOoOo

Lunch got extended into a film, and then back to Rose’s flat so that Ian could introduce Wilf to Hannah and Hardy.  It all came together as pretty much a perfect day for James--until he realized they still weren’t telling Ian.  She stiffened immediately when he stole a minute alone with her in the kitchen to ask her, and he knew the conversation wouldn't turn out well.  Her explanation about keeping it from him made complete sense--it was still new, whatever this was, and he was seven, everything was all or nothing, and he’d just be confused if it didn’t work out.  She said she’d tell him, eventually, she just needed time.

None of that changed the fact that he wanted to shout it from the rooftops that she was _finally_ admitting that something was going on...or the niggling feeling that he was missing something.  But Ian was her son, and it had to be her call; any time he’d pushed her before, it had ended in disaster, something he was trying to avoid now with every fiber of his being.

He did managed to get a kiss there in the kitchen before he left for the evening with his grandfather, hoping that the powers that be would keep Rose from panicking completely once she was on her own.

“Thanks again for watching Ian, Granddad,” James said as he drove back to their house.

“Of course,” Wilf replied.  “It’s no problem--your Nan and I watched you and your sister often enough when you were kids.  Parents need breaks too.”

“Not... _quite_ the same,” James pointed out with a smirk.

"Don't tell me what it's not," Wilf retorted.  "Anyone with eyes that see can tell how in love you are with that girl and her boy."

"Except her," James said moodily.

"Just give it some time," Wilf replied, patting James' hand.  "She'll come 'round, you watch."

James bit back an acidic remark about the fact that she'd already had ten months of time, already knowing the route that conversation would take and how futile it was.  He knew he was done for as far as Rose and Ian were concerned, and he'd wait as long as it took for her to wrap her mind around it.  Knowing that Rose was worth waiting for and keeping himself from being frustrated about the time he spent waiting were two different things though.

"Hope so, Granddad," he said finally, wishing he could just tell her the truth without running the risk of losing them both.


	28. Calling the Shots

"So let me see if I've got this right," Rose said slowly.  "You don't think The Little Mermaid is appropriate, not because it's a princess movie, but because of the moral questions it raises about Ariel's mum's fidelity?"

"Facts are facts, Rose," James replied with a shrug.  He gestured at the punnet squares he'd drawn that were being studied by Ian; the little boy was squished between them on the sofa, and running a finger over the squares.  "There is no way that it's genetically possible for Triton and Ariel's mum to produce daughters with that range of hair colors.  I'm just saying that the likelihood that the merpostman's hair was dark is a bit disturbing for a kid's movie."

"It's a cartoon," she said slowly.  "A Disney cartoon."

"All the more reason that they could have done a little simple genetic research and avoided the whole scandal."

Rose shook her head in disbelief.  "Nothing is safe with you is it?"

"Maybe she was adopted," Ian suggested, and they both looked down at him in surprise.  He shrugged, adding, "It would explain why she doesn't look like them.  Maybe someone dropped her off on the palace doorstep in a basket."

"Wellll--"  James tugged at his ear thoughtfully as he drew out the word.  "Sets a bad precedent, don't you think?  'Any unwanted children, just drop them off at the palace and we'll take them off your hands'?  They'd end up with kids on their doorstep every other day."

"Well, they are _awfully_ close in age," Rose pointed out.  "You figure, if Ariel's sixteen, and the youngest, even if they shagged like bunnies and had one every couple of years, the oldest would be around thirty."

"So, then, what? After Ariel is born they just stop taking in other kids?  'Sorry, full up, no more princesses allowed'?"

"Maybe there was an accident," Ian offered, and James arched a brow.  "Something happened in some corner of the kingdom--"

"Like a shark," Rose put in, and Ian grinned at her.

"Yeah!  And a bunch of mummies and daddies got eaten, so Triton and his wife took care of the babies."

James eyed him for a moment.  "That's a bit dark, don't you think, little man?"

"Better than Ariel's mum having a baby with the postman," the boy retorted, and Rose snickered.

"You started it," she reminded James, flashing a teasing smile at him.

James opened his mouth to argue, but a flash of lightning in the window, followed almost immediately by a loud crack of thunder, interrupted him.  It had been raining for most of the day, but it appeared the storm the weatherman had been promising was finally upon them.  Ian squirmed his way off the sofa to look out the window, and his little face was full of concern when he turned back to them.

"It's really bad outside."

"It's a good thing we're inside, then," Rose said with feeling.

"But it's almost bedtime," Ian went on, making James and Rose exchange a confused glance.

"Are you worried about the thunder keeping you up?” Rose asked, standing and stepping closer to crouch in front of him.  He shook his head, but still looked upset.  “What is it, then?”

“James leaves after bedtime,” Ian explained, turning his head to look at his tutor.

“Oh, now, that’s nothing to worry about,” James said quickly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.  He glanced past Ian out the window before returning his gaze to the boy.  “I’ve driven in worse than this before, and further than Chiswick.”

“But you weren’t my tutor then,” Ian replied.

“That’s a...fair point,” James said, clearly at a loss of how to refute this.  Rose glanced at him, then let one knee fall to the ground as she dug into her pocket for her phone, checking the weather report.  “But listen, I’ll be fine--”

Another crash of thunder interrupted whatever else he was going to say, making Ian jump and dart over to James, wrapping his arms around the older man’s neck tightly.

“Hey hey,” James murmured, cradling Ian’s head with one hand as his other arm pulled the boy into his lap.  “It’s okay, everyone’s fine, it’s just a bit of thunder.”

“Can’t you just stay here?” Ian whimpered, and Rose raised her eyes to see James shoot her a look.  “You’ve stayed on the sofa before, can’t you do that again?”

_The sofa_ , Rose thought ruefully, studying the unhappy looking weather map again.  _Right.  We’ll go with that._

“I...dunno if your mum--”

“I think he’s right,” Rose interrupted, shoving her phone back in her pocket as she stood.  “It’s not going to pass for a while, and the roads are going to be a mess.”

“Rose, I’m a fantastic--”

“Yeah, alright, but what about all the people that _aren’t_ fantastic drivers?” she asked, and his jaw clicked shut.  Visions of James hit, thrown from the car, broken and bloody somewhere in the rain swam before her, but she shook her head in an effort to keep the clawing panic from becoming too obvious.  “All it takes is one idiot, someone hydroplaning and not knowing how to deal with it, and it doesn’t matter how good you _think_ you are, and--”  She stopped, taking in a slow breath as he stared at her, his mouth dropping open a little.  “And I just think it would be better if you stayed.”

“Okay,” he said after studying her a moment.  “I’ll stay.”

Rose let out a breath of relief before admitting that Ian was right and it was time for bed.  She spent the majority of the bedtime routine trying not to think about why James had been so resistant at first and failing completely.

It had been nearly a week since their night together, and they hadn’t talked about it at all.  Part of her knew that this was probably best; she’d realized Sunday night that as great as it had been, the reality of having Ian home meant that it shouldn’t become a regular thing.  Worse, it probably shouldn’t happen at all, probably shouldn’t _have happened_ at all, especially given the way it had made James want to tell Ian about them.  _She_ didn’t even know what they were, and Ian was too attached to James as it was; she couldn’t run the risk of him pinning his hopes on James becoming his new dad or something.

But then he hadn’t said anything either, or even tried to stay.  Four days of him being the usual charmer, keeping her and Ian company and pulling her out of her own head--and three nights of him leaving shortly after putting Ian to bed.  There was still a lingering kiss at the door before he left, enough to leave her breathless, and the last two nights, he’d still called her to spend another hour chatting on the phone before she went to sleep, leading to the return of her...interesting dreams about him.  But he hadn’t said anything else, and it left her feeling off-balance.  It was one thing to realize that he probably shouldn’t stay, but another entirely to wonder if he even _wanted_ to.

She was beyond tense by the time she turned on the stars for Ian and they said good night.  Every touch and random gesture was driving her to distraction--how the hell was she going to manage an entire night with him out on the sofa?  The hand on the small of her back ushering her gently out of the room didn’t help; she darted into her room as soon as they left Ian’s to retrieve his pajama bottoms.  She dithered for a moment, wondering if she had a t-shirt or something, but decided he could make his own choice between the collared shirt and the jumper he was wearing over it.

He was waiting for her in the hall when she stepped out of her room, and stared at the pajama bottoms she thrust at him for a moment before taking them slowly.

“Thanks...for staying,” she said.  “Um.  Ian would’ve been impossible to keep down if you’d left, and I would’ve--”

He was looking down at his pajama bottoms, turning them over in his hands, but looked up when she stopped.  “What?”

“Well...I would’ve...worried.  But you’re here, so nothing to worry about!” she added cheerily, cursing the manic tinge to her voice.  _Overcompensating again_.  “Anyway.  Um.  Sleep tight!”

She spun around and fled back into her room, leaning against the door when she shut it quickly behind her.  Thunder rolled again as she closed her eyes, repeating to herself that this was the for the best and trying to ignore the fact that it wasn't at all convincing anymore.

She jumped at the knock, whirling around and staring at the door.  She picked at her nails uncertainly for a moment before reaching forward and opening the door to the sight of James still standing there, pajama bottoms dangling from one hand.

“Have I done something to upset you?” he asked, and she blinked in confusion.

“What?”

"It's just...I mean, you're you, so I expected some murky rationalization about why we couldn't sleep together with Ian home, and it'd probably translate to how we shouldn't sleep together _at all_ , because you're you," he explained, stepping into the room and running a hand through his hair as he started pacing.  She narrowed her eyes at the disturbingly accurate breakdown of her thought processes, but didn't have a chance to respond before he continued in the same rapid fire fashion.  "Which is fine, honestly because I--well, because you're you.  Which I've said, I realize, but I mean, I can wait..but it's been...some time since I've been relegated to the sofa, much less with a simple _sleep tight_ , which leads me to believe that I must have done _something_ , but I have no idea what."

Rose’s mouth moved soundlessly for a moment when he stopped, waiting for her to respond.  “I...I thought you didn’t want to stay.”

"That _I_ didn't--Rose, what on earth could _possibly_ have given you that idea?"

"Well you never mentioned it!" she snapped, confusion eating at her patience.

"Neither did you!" he retorted.  "And in case you haven't noticed, things tend to go badly for me if I push for something you're not ready to give."

“So you’re just not gonna make the effort then?”

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew how crazy it sounded, and his irritated huff with accompanying eyeroll only confirmed it.  He tossed the pajama bottoms on the bed and ran a hand down his face as he turned away in frustration.

“That’s not--hang on.”  He stopped, swivelling back to her with an unsettling look in his eye.  “You wanted me to stay.”

Rose looked down quickly, picking at her nails.  “No, I just--”

“You _did_ ,” he insisted.  “Otherwise you’d never have been bothered by the thought that I didn’t want to stay--which is still completely ludicrous, but that’s beside the point.”  He paused for a beat, watching her carefully.  “Did you want me to stay, Rose?”

There was every reason that he _shouldn’t_ stay, probably shouldn’t even _want_ to...but for the moment, Rose forgot all of them.  He started moving a fraction of a second after she did, meeting her halfway across the distance between them, his lips seeking hers as his arms wrapped around her, dragging her tight against him.  She buried the fingers of one hand into his hair as his hand slid up her spine to rest between her shoulder blades, dipping her back slightly with the force of his kiss and giving it a desperate edge that took her breath away.  One kiss ended to give way to another, his head angling for a deeper connection as his other hand slid down her back to her bum, and heat pooled in her core even as she felt his hardening cock against her stomach.

He broke away suddenly, his eyes hooded as he stared down at her, breathing heavily.  He dropped another quick kiss to her mouth, then ordered her to wait there before letting her go and striding out of the room.  Rose blinked in confusion, then moved to the door in time to see him disappear into the kitchen.  She frowned when she heard the faucet start running, and was about to follow when it turned off again and James reappeared holding one of Ian’s plastic cups.  He put a finger to his lips as he moved down the hall, and eased open Ian’s partially shut door to slip inside his room.  She heard a hushed, sleepy conversation before James left the room again, closing the door nearly completely behind him.

“Didn’t want another case of sudden dehydration derailing anything,” he explained to her questioning look, grinning at her sudden laugh.  The smile faded as his eyes raked over her, and she sobered as he stepped toward her slowly with a predatory air before kissing her again.  He walked her backwards into the room, one arm unwrapping itself from around her waist just before she heard the door close.

“It’s a bit early for bed don’t you think?” Rose asked when his mouth moved down to her throat, gasping a little when he nipped at her pulse point,

He raised his head, arching one brow minutely before pushing her onto the bed and reaching back over his shoulder to tug his jumper off.  “Not by the time I’m done, it won’t be.”

oOoOo

James started spending the night more often after the storm.  The drawer his pajama bottoms had resided in was slowly amassing a collection of long and short sleeved t-shirts to keep it company, and within a couple of weeks, he didn't need to keep any in the car "just in case".  He never pushed her, but was always deliriously happy when she shyly asked if he wanted to stay.  Every night he did stay, he murmured his devotion to her in the dark after she fell asleep, and started wondering if it would really be such a bad thing if he told her the truth when she was awake.

That is, until Ian woke up, and her shields rose with him.

“You do realize that I’m aware you’re a package deal, right?” he asked her one night in the kitchen after they put Ian to bed.  “There’s not a separation for me between when you’re his and when you’re mine.”

“Well, good, because I’m always his,” she replied without pausing as she made them tea.  “Part of being a mum.”

“No, I know, but it’s just...I don’t understand why _you_ have to create such a strict delineation between us,” he explained, his hand moving in an agitated slash to illustrate.

“It’s not like I keep you separated,” she snorted.  “You're his tutor, for god’s sake.  Some days you see him more than _I_ do.”

“No but...who you are when he’s _awake_ and when he’s _asleep_ are two very different people,” he explained, running a hand through his hair.  “And I just don’t understand why that has to be.”

“Well, what do you expect?” she demanded sharply, finally turning to him.  “That I’m just gonna grope you in front of my seven year old son?”

“Of course not,” he snapped.  “Frankly, if you did that, I’d be a little uncomfortable as well.  But it’d be nice if I was able to touch you at all.”

“You touch me all the time!” she retorted.  “You can’t _stop_ touching people.  Blimey, if your hands were cut off, I’m not sure you could actually hold a conversation with anyone ever.”

“It’s not the same!”

“What is this all about?” she asked, running an irritated hand through her own hair.

James sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face before crossing his arms and shrugging.  “I still think we should tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffed turning away and pacing in her little kitchen.  “That we’re together.  That we’re...dancing.”

She was already shaking her head and turning away before he’d even finished speaking.  “It’s too soon.”

“By what count, exactly?” he asked, stopping and staring at her.  “By when we started sleeping together?  Yeah, alright, three weeks, bit soon.  Or are we going by when we started snogging on your sofa every night?  Cause that’s closer to three months.  Or how about the beach trip four months ago, or, I dunno, the _first_ time I kissed you eight bloody months ago?  Which step forward actually marks the point where we started?"

She whirled around to face him, eyes flashing in anger.  "My son, I get to make call, that's what you always said."

"You make _every_ call, Rose!  Is it really so unthinkable that I'd like some say?"

"Yes!" she snapped.  "Just because you happen to be sleeping with his mum doesn't make you his dad!"

James froze.  It was the truth, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like a punch in the gut.  “I know that.”

Rose took a deep breath, raising her hands to hook her hair behind her ears.  “Look, he’s my son, and he’s seven, so just because something is affecting _my_ personal life, that doesn’t mean I’m automatically going to let it affect his.”

“Clearly,” James huffed, crossing his arms again.  “I’ll tell you what, how about I just save you from any personal affect for the rest of the night, that way you have nothing to tell.  Not like it would really change anything.”

“That’s not fair,” she complained, following as he strode out of the kitchen and toward the door.

“Yeah?  How’s it feel?”

She sputtered at him, but he ignored her as he grabbed his jacket and wrenched the door open.  Her hand caught the handle as he stepped outside, and she slammed it behind him.

“So much for not affecting your son,” he muttered, shaking his head at the door as he shrugged into his jacket.  “Slam it harder next time, love, I don’t think they heard you in fucking _Dover_.”

He seethed as he made his way down to the carpark and out onto the motorway, hands reflexively clenching on the steering wheel now and then.  Of course he wasn’t Ian’s _dad_ , he knew that, but did that really mean she had to keep him so painfully apart from them?

He sped past the exit to his house, too keyed up to even contemplate spending the next few hours pacing in the house.  He figured he’d just do like he’d done after Charley had shown up, just drive, but even that plan had the drawback of remembering Rose in the passenger seat, all sunshine and light with the wind from the open windows whipping her hair around.  Granted, the way he left, it probably wouldn’t matter if he ended up in another country come morning, because she probably thought he was never coming back anyway.

The thought took some of the heat out of his anger, though, and he finally pointed Bessie toward his house.  He fell into his bed feeling roughly fifty shades of awful, and dug his phone out of his pocket.  He debated calling Rose, but realized she probably wouldn’t pick up anyway.  Instead, he found himself staring at the picture of her and Ian in the background, wishing it could all be a little bit easier.

oOoOo

He wasn’t sure what to expect the next morning when he showed up at Rose’s flat.  All he wanted to do was apologize and pretend the whole stupid argument had never happened, but he had a feeling he’d have to chip through some ice before he made up any sort of ground.

To this end, he took a deep breath to steel himself before opening the door.  It wouldn’t help anything if he allowed himself to get annoyed again.  Rose looked up from where she was leaning over Ian at the table when he came in, and he paused before turning and closing the door again behind him.

“Coffee?” she asked as he shrugged out of his jacket, coming around the table and picking at her nails uncertainly.  He swallowed and nodded, not entirely trusting himself to speak as he came to grips with a...very different Rose than he’d thought he’d find.

He followed her into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.  Before he’d managed to do more than open his mouth, she whirled around to him.

“I’m sorry.”

He stared at her a beat, then managed to choke out, “Me too.”

She nodded a little, then lost whatever composure she’d kept up to then and launched herself at him.  He bent his knees a little to catch her as she wound her arms around his neck, and he slid his own arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured when she shuddered.  “I honestly didn’t mean to start a fight, I swear.  It’s just...you both mean...a lot to me,” he went on, pulling back a little to look down into her face, part of him breaking at the sight of her tears.  “Oh, Rose--”

“No, I know,” she said shaking her head and sniffling a little as one of her hands made it’s way down to his chest.  “I’ll tell him, I will, I just need a little more time--”

“I know, it’s fine,” he cut in, bringing a hand up to her cheek to catch a tear with his thumb as he rested his forehead on hers.  “I shouldn’t have pushed, I’m sorry.  _Please_ don’t cry, love.”

She took a ragged breath to try to steady herself.  “I missed you last night.”

“No nightmares, I hope,” he replied, frowning in concern, but she shook her head.

“No, just...missed you.”

He swallowed hard before licking his lips.  “I miss you every night I’m not here.”

She leaned up, pressing her lips to his, and he moved his hand around to the back of her head as they parted long enough for him to tilt his head and meet her again at a better angle.  It was soft, mouths barely opening, sweet and chaste and exactly what he needed after the torture of the night before.  He captured her top lip between his in the last encounter, holding it for a long moment before finally raising his head again.

“That’s progress, anyway,” he murmured, gesturing back at the dining room with his head when she gave him a questioning look.  “Ian’s just in the other room... _and_ awake.”  She gave a little laugh, and his lips twitched as he moved a hand to brush back her fringe.  “Can I stay tonight?”

“Yeah,” she replied, giving him a watery smile.

“Oh good...last night was awful,” he said with feeling, and she nodded quickly in agreement.  He dropped another quick kiss to her mouth and stepped back, dropping his hands and burying them in his pockets.  “Go on, go to the loo, fix yourself up so you don’t end up getting to work looking like Alice Cooper on a bad night.”

She laughed again, swiping her fingers under her eyes and inspecting the residue before looking back up at him.  “We’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding.  “Course.  It was mostly my fault anyway.”

“No, I should’ve--”

“Rose, I am _not_ going to get into an argument about who was more at fault in the _last_ argument,” he cut in firmly, arching a brow at her, and she bit her lip as she smiled.

“Yeah, suppose we really would sound like an old married couple then,” she admitted, and he nodded again, waggling his brows in agreement.  “Right, well, there really is coffee, and it’s hot, help yourself.  I’ll just--”

She gestured at the door, and he gave her a wink as she moved past him.  He didn’t move immediately for the coffee after she left, however.  He stood still a long moment before drawing a slow breath--now was not the time to dwell on how good being part of an old married couple with Rose actually sounded.


End file.
